Bad Day and Getting Worse
by Yvetta
Summary: Sam and Dean go on a hunt and end up finding something that's stalking them. Bad luck and angst and pain follow. Murphy's Law kicks in . . . in a big way. Complete . . . I think.
1. Chapter 1

A/N : I haven't been around in a while, and I just had the urge to write something. Who knows if I'll finish it or not.

I don't own any of these characters and the place is made up (as far as I know). Don't sue me because I don't have anything worth taking.

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Only three hours after finishing a hunt and falling exhaustedly into bed, the Winchester brothers were awakened by Dean's cell phone. He rolled over to answer it, grumbling unintelligibly the whole four-minute conversation. He hung up and climbed out of bed.

"Get up," he ordered gruffly. "We're leaving."

Sam obediently crawled out of his warm covers and threw his things into the suitcase. He followed Dean out to the car and waited patiently while his brother woke up the motel manager to announce that they were leaving. After one quick stop at an all-night diner, the boys were back in the car and on their way.

"Where are we going?" Sam asked his brother as they took off down the road, speaking for the first time that day.

"To our next hunt," Dean responded vaguely.

"Really?" Sam snapped. "I hadn't guessed. Where are we going?"

"To Luitton, Oklahoma. Seems people have been experiencing some rather strange things there lately."  
"Such as?"

"Cars driving around by themselves, animals going haywire, and retired people suddenly having more energy than their great-grandkids."

"Demonic possession, then?" Sam concluded.

"Sounds like it. I got the message from Ellen this morning; she asked us to go."

"Why would Ellen contact us? We didn't have a great relationship last time we spoke to her."

"Not sure," Dean said, shrugging. "All I know is that she sounded pretty frantic and begged us to help. I said we would."

"Couldn't we have had two more hours of sleep?"

Dean grinned. "You don't sleep, anyway, so why should you care?"

"Sometimes I really enjoy just laying in bed and not doing anything," Sam replied.

"No time like the present," Dean said with a smirk.

"You're pretty chipper for how early we got up. What is it that you're not telling me?"

Dean glanced over, looking hurt. "I'm telling you everything, Sammy. You know I wouldn't lie to you."

"Why don't I believe you?" Sam said slowly.

"Maybe because you're smart," Dean said. Then he reached over and turned the radio way up, effectively ending the conversation. Sam sighed and looked out the window.

The Winchesters' reception in Luitton was less enthusiastic than they'd hoped. No one wanted to talk to them. They couldn't even get a room in the local motel. They ended up getting stumbling into the cabin of an old woman. She told them she was leaving for a few days and they could stay at her place, as long as they watched out for her dog, Manny.

When asked why she was leaving, she said she had family business. When asked why she trusted them, she said it was "this thing she had". Not having any other options, they accepted her hospitality and got to work.

Their first day was basically useless. They found nothing in regard to the "strange" happenings that Ellen had told Dean about. They researched and tried to talk to people but still no one was cooperating, as though outsiders were the plague. Dejected and tired, they went back to the cabin to get some sleep. Dean fell asleep almost immediately. Sam tried, but failed. He tossed and turned and lay awake for a long time.

Just when he was about to succumb to the sleep, he heard Manny in the kitchen. The dog was barking incessantly. Since he couldn't sleep anyway, Sam got up to see what the stupid thing wanted. He walked down the dark hallway to the kitchen, where the dog was. Manny took no notice of him, but kept up his tirade, barking at the screen door. Sam expected to see a rabbit or a cat or even a burglar, but there was nothing there.

"Shut up, you stupid dog!" he snapped, jerking Manny back by his collar. The dog continued to squirm and bark and growl and Sam grew frustrated quickly. It was cold and he should at least be trying to sleep. Abruptly, the dog quieted down and merely whimpered, trying to snuggle into the small of Sam's back. The younger Winchester looked down, disgusted. "What the hell – dumb dog."

But then, his hunter instincts kicked in. Realising what might have caused a dog do behave like that, he glanced up to the door once more. A man stood there, clearly long dead, his eyes staring intently at Sam. When they made eye contact, he licked his lips hungrily and started to come through the door, walking slowly at his prey.

Sam normally wouldn't have panicked in this situation, but he was alone in a strange place and had absolutely no weapons. The brothers hadn't expected to find this sort of thing while on their case here and he didn't know why this man appeared to be sizing him up for a meal. He backed away immediately, called out loudly for his brother. The dog stopped moving behind him, and he fell backwards over it.

"Manny --" he began, stopping cold when he saw the dog was dead on the floor. He didn't know how that had happened, but he knew he needed to be somewhere else, and fast.

But by the time his mind registered that the dog was dead, the dead man was standing on top of him.

"Samuel," came the chilling whisper. "I want your heart . . ."

Sam backed up more, still on the floor. "Dean!" he shouted again.

"Uh uh uh," the man growled with an evil grin. "Let's not be calling brother dearest."

Suddenly, felt a cord wrap around his throat, rendering him unable to breathe, let alone call for Dean. While struggling for air, Sam vaguely felt an icy hand touch his chest. And what followed was the most horrific pain he had ever felt in his life. He tried to scream, but failed in even getting a breath. His lungs burned and agony lanced through his chest, warning him of oncoming death. Spots appeared in his vision. He willed himself to stay conscious, but ultimately the lack of air won out. His eyes rolled up in the back of his head; the last thing he remembered was feeling that death was much worse than he'd ever thought.

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Dean was having a wonderful dream involving two very hot women when the stupid dog woke him up. He considered getting up to throw it into a wall or something, but then he heard Sam roll out of bed and contented himself with staying under the warm covers. The dog stopped barking, and he smiled. He was just about asleep again when he heard his brother's alarmed voice, calling his name.

"Shut up, Sammy," he grumbled into his pillow, knowing there was no way the younger Winchester could have heard it.

But Sam called again, louder, and Dean shot out of bed when his brain registered the fear in his brother's voice. "Sam?" he called out.

He stopped only long enough to grab his gun and rounded the corner without slowing. The hallway seemed infinitely longer than usual, mostly because everything in the kitchen was now eerily silent. "Sam?" Dean called again.

Finally, he broke into the open room and gasped when he saw his little brother, unconscious or dead – he wasn't yet sure which one. An undead enemy of some sort seemed to be sucking the life out of the younger Winchester and a cord was already wrapped around Sam's throat. The dog was dead. Blood was pooling around the three forms on the floor.

"Get away from my brother, you stupid --" Dean interrupted himself with a well-placed shot that made the intruder scream his pain, giving Dean a psychotic look of anger, and disappearing through the door.

Dean dropped the gun and fell to his knees next to Sam, ripping the strangling cord away from his brother's neck. "Sammy?" he said, feeling for a pulse.

After an eternity of waiting, he felt the weak and irregular beat under his fingers, and sighed in relief. The rope had made an ugly bruise around Sam's neck, and Dean didn't even _want_ to see what that ghostie had done to his chest. He was already alarmed by how cold Sam's skin was to the touch. Even his clothes were icy. But first, he needed to hear his brother's voice or at least see those eyes.

"Sam?" he said gently, cradling the youngest hunter in his arms. "Sammy, I need you to talk to me, okay?"

He felt a slight stirring under his hand and continued to coax Sam back to consciousness. He tried to ignore the blood, hoping it belonged to the dog and not to his brother. "Sammy, come on, okay?"

Sam's eyes fluttered once and then stopped.

"No, come on, look at me," Dean said quickly. "Wake up."

"Dean?" Sam choked out, without opening his eyes.

Dean breathed out another sigh of relief. "I'm here, buddy," he said. "Open your eyes. I need to see if you have a concussion."

"Didn't . . . hit . . . head," Sam weakly said.

"Open 'em up," Dean insisted.

With what seemed to be a great effort, Sam managed to get his eyes open. They were dulled but moving. "Dean," Sam began.

"Don't worry about anything, little brother," Dean said reassuringly. "We'll get you into that warm bed of yours and you'll feel better in no time."

"Twas . . . it?" Sam asked in a bit of a mumble, his eyes drooping closed again.

"Stay with me!" Dean snapped, unwilling to let his brother pass out. "I don't know yet what it was. I'll find out while you rest."

"Manny . . ."

"Is dead," Dean finished. "I think the ghostie killed him."

"Don't . . . think . . ." Sam trailed off again.

"We'll talk about it later, okay, Sammy? Come on; let's get you upstairs. Can you walk?"

"Sure," Sam said, his voice getting stronger. "Help . . . me up."

Dean got to his feet, then reached down and hauled Sam up. His brother groaned lightly, but didn't complain. They walked slowly together down that never ending hallway and into the bedroom. Sam collapsed on the bed and was out in less than a second.

The elder Winchester stood looking down at the sleeping form. "What happened down there, Sam?" he asked softly, not expecting an answer. Instead of going back to sleep, he sat down on his bed and watched Sam breathe. It looked somewhat painful and erratic. He finally mustered the guts to pull up Sam's shirt and look at the damage. Severe black and blue bruises covered Sam's chest around where his heart was. This didn't match anything he'd seen before, and he wondered what it could have been.

"It's okay, Sammy; I'm watching over you," he said as he covered up his brother and sat back to watch until morning.

Sam awoke to the smell of food. He hadn't eaten in a while, so the smell made his stomach growl and he tried to sit up. Pain shot through his chest and he fell back onto the bed, groaning with the effort. It was then that he remembered the events of the night before. His neck was sore; his chest was sore . . . but he was still alive, which came as a bit of a shock to someone who had assumed he was dying.

He took a few laboured breaths before attempting to sit up again, this time with more success. Clutching the wall as though it was his life support, he managed to drag his aching body down the hall, following his nose, hoping it was Dean making food and not the crazed dead man that tried to kill him. Why a dead man might be cooking escaped him at that moment, so he concluded it must be Dean.

And as he rounded the corner to the open kitchen, his eyes confirmed his conclusion. "Morning," he said, his voice coming out like a scratchy whisper.

Dean turned around and set down the eggs he was cooking. "Sit down, Sammy," he ordered nurturingly. "You shouldn't be walking around."

"Yes, Mother," Sam said like a sarcastically obedient child. "Actually, you don't even know if I should be walking around."

"I assume, from the fact that you were unconscious twice in two minutes, that your health is not at its best, and therefore you should relax until you get better."

"Thanks for that, Sherlock," Sam grumbled back. "Did you see that guy last night, or was it just me?"

"Oh, I saw him all right. He was doing something to you. Not sure what it was."

"And the dog?"

"Long dead. Its blood was everywhere and for a minute I thought it was yours."

Sam grimaced. "I was lying in a dead dog's blood? That's a cheery breakfast thought."

"At least I cleaned it up before you came out here. That way, you don't even have to look at it," Dean responded. "See how nice I'm being?"

"Yeah; it's creepy."

"So what happened?" Dean asked. "I know you got up when Manny started barking, but then it got quiet and loud and quiet again and I think most of the fun was over by the time I got there."

"Dog barked, I came out, dead man showed up at the door, dead man came through the door, said something about wanting my heart, dog died, cord wrapped itself around my throat, intense agony, and here I am."

"That's definitely the short version," Dean said. "What did he say about your heart?"

"That was the strange part," Sam said. "He called me by name and said he wanted my heart."

"I've never heard of that before."

"There's got to be a precedence for it. There always is."

"Not really, Sammy," Dean said with his characteristic cynicism. "There's a first time for everything."


	2. Chapter 2

Sam spent the day in a turtleneck to hide his bruised throat, in spite of the fact that it was warm enough for a t-shirt. He figured the fewer questions people asked, the better. It wasn't his idea to be asking about a touchy subject like people being possessed while he looked like he'd been run over by a bus. At least he was feeling better as he and Dean set out to find some answers.

Hours of research did nothing to help the Winchesters that day, although they DID work hard. Sam spent a long time looking up demonic possession and things that might want people's hearts. Dean asked around the town, but people generally weren't more helpful today than they had been the day before. It was frustrating. They got together for dinner at a local café to compare notes and hope the other had been more successful.

"How did it go?" Sam asked as he sat down.

"Terrible," Dean replied, noting the absence of the laptop. "And I'm guessing from the fact that you don't have handfuls of papers and a list of web sites to look up that things didn't go better for you."

"Not so much, no," the younger Winchester said. "I can't figure out what this is yet."

"Well, at least I had some luck, then," a familiar voice said brightly, coming up to their table.

Both Winchesters turned, one of them completely shocked to see Jo approaching. "Well, at least I know what it was that you weren't telling me, Dean," Sam said dryly, noticing the lack of complete surprise on his brother's face.

"Yeah, sorry," Dean replied. "Jo, what are you doing here?"

"Are you always this cheerful?" she said with a grin, "Or are you making a special effort for me?"

"Jo, your mom is worried sick," Sam put in. "Have you talked to her since you left?"

"Of course not," Jo said. "Remember what happened last time?"

"That's exactly why we figured you wouldn't want to be doing things like this anymore. And why we thought you'd tell your mom where you were going."

"She never would have let me come," Jo said.

"Exactly."

"Dean, what is your problem?" she snapped. "Here I am trying to save lives, and all you can do is criticise me?"

There was an awkward silence. Dean didn't feel any desire to answer that accusation, so he just sipped his drink and looked at the table. Jo sighed in frustration.

"Look, Jo," Sam said, trying to play the peacemaker, "Why don't you sit down and tell us what you've found out? There's no sense in wasting valuable, hard-earned information."

"Fine," she growled, still glaring at Dean as she plopped down into the chair. "I've discovered that it isn't any normal case of demonic possession. Not only are people doing things they would never do, they're only like that for 24 hours and then suddenly they die, with their hearts ripped out."

There was a moment of stunned silence. "What?" Sam finally choked out.

"I said I've discovered that it isn't any normal –"

"Just the last part," Dean interrupted. "What did you say about hearts?"

"I said they get their hearts ripped out after 24 hours."

"That wasn't in any of the newspaper articles or anything," Sam objected. "How could the police keep something like that a secret?"

"And why would they want to?" Dean put in.

"The thing is that I read the police reports," Jo answered. "The police found these people with their hearts ripped out. And every single person that has been possessed has died in 24 hours, without fail."

"At least we have more to go on now," Sam said, looking at his brother. "Now we can figure out what it is and how to kill it." Jo cleared her throat, drawing his attention back to her. "Unless you already know what it is and how to kill it," he amended.

"Naturally I don't," Jo said. "But I don't want you to go around thinking you can just subtract me out of this hunt."

"You're not a hunter, Jo," Dean said a little more loud than he should have. "In fact, I think last time we met, you didn't even want anything to do with us!"

"Look, I'm sorry about how I reacted!" she retorted. "How was I supposed to feel, finding out that your dad was the reason my father died?"

"And how were we supposed to feel?" Sam asked. "It's not like we knew about that. It's not like we were there."

Silence reigned for a few long, tense minutes. Finally, Jo, who had tears in the corners of her eyes, said, "I'm sorry. I should never have blamed you."

Sam swallowed. "I think we would all be benefitted if we could put these feelings behind us. Something that our parents did is dragging us down. None of us were involved, so we couldn't have changed it. Now let's move on."

"I don't 'move on,' Sam," Dean snapped irritably. "But I'll be civil. How about that?"

"It's the best we can ask for. We'll only cause problems for each other if we can't even get along."

Jo nodded. "It's only fair."

"Now, Dean and I are going to go do some more research on this thing. Jo, since you have an easy time talking with people, why don't you try to find out what these victims had in common. Talk to their families and find out if more people share a commonality with them that would help us identify the next victim."

"Right," she said. "I can do that."

"We'll meet back here tomorrow morning at eight for breakfast," Sam continued. "Everyone be careful until then."

Jo knew Sam was telling her to be careful and not Dean, but she chose to ignore it and nodded again. "Okay. See you in the morning."

Sam wished her a good night and dragged Dean back to the cabin. They didn't talk much; Dean was still upset about Jo but he understood and appreciated Sam's handling of the situation. The kid could talk their way out of almost anything.

"Well, it's definitely possession," Sam said as he opened up his laptop. "All we have to figure out now is who and why."

"What does it want with human hearts?" Dean said thoughtfully. "And why did something come after yours last night?"

"Perhaps this is the first step," Sam replied, as objectively as though talking about the weather or the latest football game. "Maybe he comes and tells them he wants to take their heart, then possesses them and takes it 24 hours later. I could just be the next victim on his list."

"Sam, please," the elder Winchester said, his voice betraying how tired he was.

"What? It's possible."

"Fine. It's possible. That just means that I'm not going to get any sleep tonight. I'm going to sit here and stare at you all night to make sure nothing possesses you without me killing it."

"But we don't know how to kill it."

"Well, that shot I put into it last night didn't seem to make it feel any better; that's for sure. The thing scrammed when I shot it. And even if all I can do is scare it off for a while, I will."

"Hold me, Dean. I feel warm and cozy inside," Sam said, knowing it was inappropriate to mock his brother after that speech, but also knowing it would help to alleviate Dean's worry a bit.

"Shut up, Sammy," Dean growled, but he smirked to show he wasn't angry.

It was going to be a long night, though, and both brothers knew it. If Sam were right about his being the next victim, neither could afford to sleep. They would have to catch up later. After salting the windows and doors, the Winchesters retired to Sam's room. Sam laid down on his bed, eyes wide open. Dean sat in a chair across from the door with his gun. The two said nothing, but waited for the darkness to fade back into light.

Around 2:30 in the morning, with both of them in the same positions, they heard tapping on the sliding door where the spirit had come in the night before. Sam turned his head toward the sound, knowing he wouldn't be able to see anything, then glanced at his brother. Dean shook his head, telling Sam to stay where he was. They would not leave their sanctuary. Whatever spirit it was shouldn't be able to get in, anyway.

Well, they assumed that . . . until they heard footsteps going across the room to the kitchen and then toward the hall. Sam looked at Dean again, and his brother shook his head sternly. No way was Sam leaving that bed.

Abruptly the footsteps stopped, just as they were nearing the bedroom. "Samuel," a chilling voice called softly. "I've come for your heart. Tonight you will feed me."

Sam was now staring at his bother, hoping for some sign of a plan. Dean's eyes, however, were riveted on the door. They widened considerably when the doorknob turned, and the door swung silently in.

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Note: I really have no idea where this is going, so if anyone wants to give me suggestions, I'm completely open. You could say I have writer's block right now; I keep starting things and never finishing them. Anyway, I appreciate your support!


	3. Chapter 3

Sam looked down at his brother again and Dean vehemently shook his head. You're not going anywhere, little bother, he thought. Stay on that bed.

The door was all the way open now, and Dean hadn't moved a muscle. From his current position, Sam couldn't see the doorway, but the look on his brother's face kept him from twisting around to get a better view. He swallowed nervously. He had been bait before, and he had definitely been attacked before, but this was ridiculous. Something was about to get him, he was lying here, wide awake, in perfect control of his facilities, and he was going to just let it walk right up to him. Every hunter alarm in his body was going off like crazy, and it was all he could do to not react.

Dean, however, looked completely relaxed. The only thing that betrayed him was the wild look in his eyes and the tightening hand on his gun. He took a deep breath and let it out slowly. He could see the demon at the door and he was fighting his instincts to not attack just yet, too.

The demon apparently hadn't noticed that either man was awake and entered the room without slowing down at the salted door. "Samuel," it cooed evilly, "I'm here for you."

"Go to hell," Dean screamed just as the hand was reaching for his brother. He shot the demon, which instantly turned its flashing eyes on the elder Winchester, hissing. Then it dived at Dean, and the room exploded into action.

Sam leaped off the bed, grabbing his own gun and heading for Dean. Dean had shot twice more, with no results, and then jumped out of the way at the last possible second. The demon flew past him, but recovered and attacked again, managing to grab him by the jacket and toss him carelessly into the far wall. Sam called out his brother's name, shooting at the demon and realising only too late that his quick actions had put him into the corner away from the door. Dean wasn't moving, the gun wasn't working, and now he had nowhere to run.

His cold fingers dropped the gun and he backed up until he hit the wall. The demon grinned as it approached him. "Little Samuel," it said, "Do not run from me."

"Does it look like I'm running?" Sam snapped. Great – he was acting more like his brother by making a stupid comment that would provoke an already angry creature. Good idea, Sam. Good idea.

Without answering, the demon finally reached its target and stretched out its fingers. Instantly, Sam felt a sinking exhaustion creep into him and he collapsed to the ground, eyes focused on the thing that was about to suck his life out. A cold pain spread throughout his chest and his eyes closed involuntarily. He tried to keep them open, but they had become too heavy. In fact, everything was too heavy. Even his lungs felt too heavy. He felt his body completely relax, in spite of how hard he was trying to fight. He wasn't supposed to just sit down and die! He was a Winchester!

Dean came to with a start, sitting straight up and glancing around the room. It took his brain processing the demon standing over his unmoving brother to spur him into action.

"Get off him!" he shouted, coming to his feet and pointing the gun. He couldn't fire for fear the bullet would go through and hit Sam.

The demon didn't respond in any way. Sam's face was a bluish color already, and he was shivering unconsciously. The hand that covered his heart was turning a regular healthy pink, and what concerned Dean most was the increasing red that came from underneath the hand. Dean ran up and knocked the demon away, shooting everything he had at the ugly dead man. The man's eyes flashed, but he disappeared out the door seconds later. Dean dropped the gun and stumbled to his brother.

"Sammy," he said, stumbling over the name that usually came so easily. "Sammy, please be alive." His hand, shaking from fear, reached for Sam's neck to look for a pulse. Sam's skin was extremely cold to the touch, but, much to Dean's relief, there was a small thump underneath his fingers. It was irregular and weak, but it was there. He pulled away, finally allowing himself to release a breath he didn't realise he had been holding. Sam's breathing seemed painful and shallow, as if the very act of doing it was a feat in and of itself.

"Sammy, wake up," he said, trying to coax his brother back to consciousness like he had the night before. "Come on, Sam. Wake up."

Unlike the previous night, he received no response for his efforts. After a few minutes of failed attempts to rouse Sam, Dean realised he needed to get medical help. He dragged Sam to the bed, where he wrapped Sam in the blankets and only then felt he could leave his brother long enough to get the first aid kit. He hadn't yet looked under Sam's shirt, but knew there was blood there and that it would be an ugly wound. He ran all the way to the kit and all the way back, not wanting to leave Sam alone and unprotected any longer than was necessary.

By the time he got back, Sam's breathing had eased a little and the bluish tinge to his skin was starting to go away. Dean sighed in relief, pulling back the blankets to expose Sam's chest. He cut his brother's shirt open, not willing to try fixing the wound by pulling it up. Indeed, there were black and blue bruises all over, just like they had been the previous night. Unfortunately, this time, they were accompanied by a bloody hand print, positioned exactly over Sam's heart. It was almost like someone had cut the hand print out. The wound didn't seem too deep, but it was large enough – and still seeping blood – that Dean worried about it. He poured holy water on it, wincing at the agonised groan that came from deep in Sam's throat as the water burned the wound. He paused, hoping the pain would wake Sam, but when, after a few moments, Sam quieted down again, he continued his first aid. He began dabbing antiseptic all over the hand print, trying to hold Sam still when the younger Winchester started to squirm around from the pain.

"Sam," he said, giving up his efforts until his brother either woke up or stopped moving. "Sammy, wake up!"

A hitched breath and fluttering eyelids told Dean that Sam was fighting his way back to consciousness. "Sammy," he continued, his voice sweetening. "Sammy, open those ugly eyes up for me!"

"Kill me," Sam ground out, his voice hoarse and raspy.

"That would be too easy, my friend. Open your eyes."

Sam finally managed to get his unfocused eyes open halfway. He couldn't see his brother because everything was blurry, but he trusted his instincts that the voice he had just heard belonged to Dean.

"Sam? You with me?" Dean asked.

Sam tried to concentrate on the voice, but it was hard to pinpoint exactly where it was coming from. "Sort . . . of," he croaked out.

"Good enough for me right now," Dean answered. "I'm off to your left, by the way." Sam's head turned slightly, but from the look in his glassy eyes, Sam still couldn't focus.

"I'm cleaning up your wound," Dean went on. "This is probably going to hurt a bit."

Sam started to open his mouth when Dean started rubbing more antiseptic into his chest, and whatever he was going to say faded into a pained whimper. He bit his lip and his eyes slid shut again, but he forced himself to hold still until Dean finished. A few minutes later, the deed was done and Sam relaxed, sweating and exhausted.

"Open up the eyes again, Sammy," Dean insisted. "I can't have you passing out on me when I need to see if you're okay."

"Go . . . to . . . hell," Sam groaned miserably.

Dean grinned in spite of the situation. "Come on, Sammy, I just have to check up on you. You'd do the same to me."

"Jerk," the younger Winchester griped as his eyes fluttered open with another gargantuan effort.

"Can you see me yet?" Dean asked hopefully.

"Yeah," Sam answered. "Three . . . of you."

"At least you can see me now."

"Can I . . . sleep now?"

"Sure," Dean said, a hand on his brother's right shoulder for support. "You get some rest. I'll make sure that thing doesn't get you again."

Sam's body relaxed into a slumber almost immediately, and Dean got to his feet to rub a hand over his eyes. He picked up his cell phone and dialed.

"Hello?" a sleepy voice answered on the fourth ring.

"Jo," he said quickly. "We're going to have to cancel our breakfast appointment."

"Why?" she asked, coming awake slowly.

"Sam's had a bit of an . . . attack," he ventured. He had pondered lying to her or misleading her or any number of things, but decided in the end that it would help him more if he just told her the truth.

"What?" she asked, suddenly sounding completely awake.

"That demon came and tried to suck his heart out of him," Dean said. "It nearly got him, too. He's asleep on the bed here."

"Is he okay?"

"No, Jo, he's not. My little brother just got attacked and is bleeding and you want to know if he's okay?" Dean snapped.

"Sorry," Jo said, realising her mistake. "Do you want help?"

"Actually," Dean said, after a short consideration, "I wouldn't mind it."

"Okay – tell me where you are, and I'll be there as soon as I can."

After hanging up, Dean sank into his chair again and his fingers curled reflexively around the gun he had picked up once more. His adrenaline was going away. He tried to stay awake to watch over Sam, but his eyes grew heavy. The thing wouldn't attack twice in one night, would it? It might, was his last thought as he succumbed to his total exhaustion.

He didn't hear the door open for the second time that night.


	4. Chapter 4

Jo knocked three times, waited, knocked, waited, and knocked again. She was getting frustrated at being left outside when Dean had already admitted he wanted her help. She pulled out her cell phone, dialing Dean's number, and listened. His voice mail picked up; either he had turned off his phone to go to sleep – an unlikely explanation considering how worried he had been about his brother – or he was in trouble. Now, she was past frustration. Jo was somewhere near worry at this point.

Not having had a lot of experience in the lock-picking department, Jo prayed no one would come by and see her as she fiddled with her hairpin in the door lock. She wasn't even sure exactly what she was doing. But she knew it was imperative that she get the door open as soon as possible. After what seemed like an eternity, a soft click let Jo know that she had somehow maneuvered her pin into the right place. She silently slid the door open, absently noting the messy state of the cabin. Quietly creeping around in the dark was hard enough in a place that you were familiar with; but this was an unfamiliar, untidy place in the middle of nowhere and Jo tripped four or five times before she found the hallway. She went down, reaching the first door and pushing it open. No one was inside the room. She found her quarries in the next room, sliding the door open and sighing in relief as she saw her friends slumbering. Well, Dean was softly sleeping, anyway. His hand was menacingly holding onto his gun. Sam looked to be more unconscious than asleep, and the nurturing, feminine side of Jo kicked in. She went toward him, spotting the bandages with red seeping through on his chest. She reached out to touch him, instantly regretting it as he groaned miserably without waking. Dean, however, heard the small noise in his sleep and shot up, the gun raised to right between Jo's eyes as she pulled away.

"Dean," she said aloud, her hands up even though she didn't know why she did it.

"Jo?" he asked, almost breathless from his rude awakening. "Don't ever do that to me again!" he growled, shaking his head to clear it and moving to check on Sam.

"Sorry," she said. "But when you didn't answer the door or your phone, I got worried and came in. I wasn't trying to be quiet."

Dean looked down at his phone in surprise. "I'm sure I would have heard it ring," he said thoughtfully, noticing with some distaste that he really did have a missed call from Jo. "Well, sorry," he mumbled.

Sam was starting to wake up with the noise of the conversation in the room. This time, he managed to get his eyes open and even focused before either of the other two occupants even knew he was awake. "Dean apologises," he said, his voice low and soft but still drawing attention. "Miracles happen every day."

"How're you feeling, buddy?" Dean asked, dismissing Sam's comment without another thought.

"Wonderful," Sam said sarcastically. "As long as I still have my heart."

"It's in there beating," Dean responded. "No one steals my brother's heart while I'm around."

"Isn't that comforting," Sam answered.

"I'm glad you're okay," Jo put in.

"Me too, believe me," the younger Winchester said back.

"Well, what is it that we're up against?" Jo asked. "I mean, is this attack related to the others? And if so, what is it? How do we kill it?"

"We don't know for sure if they're related," Dean said. "We think they are, but we have no proof. Besides, it's been 24 hours since Sam first saw the thing, and it didn't manage to rip his heart out."

"It put up a good effort of doing just that," Sam said as he gingerly touched his bandaged chest.

"Yeah, but it failed. And you said it felt like the thing was trying to suck your life out, not rip your heart out."

"Dean, we have no idea what it felt like to those people that actually died. No one got around to asking them. It could feel like the same thing."

"But we don't know!" Dean said, his voice rising.

"Of course, Sam wasn't doing things he wouldn't normally do, either," Jo put in quietly. "The other victims seemed like they were possessed."

"That's true," Sam replied. "So you think they're unrelated?"

"I didn't say that. I merely stated a fact."

"Do you think they're related?"

Jo put her hands on her hips. "I don't know. I can't imagine that they could possibly be random occurrences in the same town at the same time. But different things happened to you than happened to other people."

"Maybe Sam's special 'gift' kept him safe from possession," Dean suggested, using his fingers as quotes over the word gift.

"We know that's impossible," Sam snapped. "I've been possessed before . . . or don't you remember that I nearly killed you?"

"Sam, let it go," Jo warned in a soft but stern tone.

"How can I let that go? Obviously, I'm a prime candidate for possession." There was an uncomfortable silence, and Sam took a deep breath before filling it. "Look, I'm not beating myself up over it," he began, then, when Dean's eyebrow shot up, he amended, "too much, anyway. But we have to face the facts. Having visions didn't stop me from being possessed before; why should it now?"

"Fine. We'll accept that fact and move on," Dean growled.

Sam rolled his eyes but said nothing, his temporary energy wearing away quickly. His eyelids felt very heavy, as did his whole body. Dean and Jo were startled when his limp hand suddenly rolled off his chest and onto the bed with a dull thump.

"Is he –"

"He's just asleep," Dean interrupted, checking Sam's pulse just to be sure. "He's not dead."

"I was going to ask if he was asleep," Jo said. "I didn't think he was dead."

"Anyway, we need to figure out what to do. Will this thing come after him again? I don't know how long we can keep doing this. It was worse tonight than last night."

"Last night?" Jo repeated, surprised. "What happened last night?"

"Roughly the same thing. It got him when he went to shut the dog up."

"What dog?"

"The one that died right after a dead guy came through the door and tried to kill my brother. There was blood everywhere."

Jo's hand came up to her mouth. "Oh," she said shakily. "Was he okay then?"

"Sam? Or the dog?"

"Sam," she ground out in annoyance. "I don't care about the dog."

"He had a cord wrapped around his throat. That's where all those bruises came from. Apparently, this thing tried to strangle him so he wouldn't struggle. I got there in time to shoot the thing but I didn't know what it was doing or anything. And Sam was too tired to stay awake the rest of the night, even though I'm sure he wanted to. But yeah, he was okay in the morning."

"So this happened twice in two nights?"

"Isn't that what I just said? Please tell me we don't have to repeat everything twice."

"Look, Dean, I'm just trying to understand what happened here so I can help Sam, okay?"

Dean nodded tiredly. "I'm sorry," he said for the second time that night.

"It's okay," Jo answered with a smile. "I understand. Sam will be fine, all right?"

"Yeah," Dean said. "I won't let anything happen to him."

"Get some sleep," Jo commanded. "You can barely keep your eyes open."

"I can't. Something could happen."

"I'll watch while you sleep," Jo offered. "Just for an hour or two."

Dean lacked the strength to resist, even though his instincts told him not to abandon his brother like that. "Thanks," he muttered as he collapsed back into his chair and fell asleep instantly.

Jo smiled as she looked at the slumbering brothers. It must have been nice to have someone care about you as much as these two did about each other. They would do anything to rescue each other. Wistfully, she thought about how she wished she'd had a brother or sister. But then again, her mother was quite protective.

With a sigh, she sat down on the floor across from the door to wait out the rest of the night. She intended to let Dean sleep or longer than the hour or two she had suggested. Both Winchesters needed it. Clearly they hadn't slept well in a long time. Dean had dropped his gun on the bed, and Jo snatched it up before returning to her position. Light was starting to filter in through the room, signaling the arrival of day. So far, she didn't know if people were attacked during the day, but it was better safe than sorry. Besides, this gave her time to think. Something was definitely after Sam, and they had to stop it before it succeeded in killing him.

She hadn't even noticed that she'd fallen asleep until she heard Sam's agonised whimper. Jo shot up at the same time Dean did. Sam was halfway out the door when he made the sound, but continued without slowing. "Sam?" Dean called worriedly. "Sam, you okay?" He followed his brother out into the hall, not appreciating the fact that he received no response. Jo was right behind him when he put his hand on Sam's shoulder and spun him around. He gasped at what he saw. Sam's eyes were completely black, implying possession. This had just registered when Sam violently shoved Dean into Jo and down to the ground, turning to leave before they could get back up.

"Sam!" Dean shouted after his brother.

Sam broke into a quick run, disappearing out the door and into the newly dawning day. By the time Dean and Jo arrived at the door, Sam was long gone.

"Oh no," Jo said softly.

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Note: Well, this ended up being a less-than-exciting chapter. I don't do them very often, but sometimes they're a necessary evil. And curiosity forces me to ask people's opinion on something: Would you rather have a quick update but a boring chapter, or wait an extra couple of days for more excitement? If you could answer in a review, I'd really appreciate it. No, that isn't a cheater's way of asking for reviews. I'm really just wondering. But hey, thanks for reading. I really appreciate those who are so kind as to tell me what they think!


	5. Chapter 5

"What happened?" Dean snapped irritably.

"W-what do you mean?" Jo asked, stuttering as fear of Dean's anger gripped her.

"You said you'd watch him!"

She dropped her head, unable to look Dean in the eye. "I'm sorry. I was tired and I really didn't think anything could happen."

After a moment of silence, she dared to glance at him. He was taking a deep breath, trying to calm himself before speaking to her again.

"It's more my fault than yours," he finally said softly. "I was supposed to watch out for him." He paused, then added, "Well, forget this blame game. It won't help us find my brother before he does something stupid."

Jo nodded, grabbing her gun and jacket to leave. "We'll find him, Dean."

"We'd better," the Winchester replied as he headed out the door. "I'd hate to have my dad _and_ my brother haunting me at the same time."

"Well, we have 24 hours," Jo said brightly. "Where should we start looking?"

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After three hours of calling people and talking to people and asking around, Jo and Dean dejectedly stopped at a park to rest. They had been running nonstop and were tired, hungry, and upset. They had been sitting in an awkward silence for about ten minutes when Dean's cell phone rang. He ripped it out and answered it without thinking about who would be calling him.

"Yeah?"

"Dean?"

Dean suddenly sat up straighter, drawing Jo's attention. "Sam? Is that you?"

"Yeah, uh . . . listen, I need help." Sam's voice was beyond exhausted.

"Are you you?"

"I'm me, Dean. I've been trying to fight it but I'm getting too tired and I need help. You have to stop it before I do something."

"I will, Sam. I will. Tell me where you are."

"I have no idea. I've been trying to figure it out for a while. I've only been in control for about an hour. I could have killed somebody or something . . ."

"Sam!" Dean shouted, as his brother's voice trailed off. "Sam, stay with me here and concentrate. I need you to tell me what's around you."

"Uh . . . trees."

Dean waited patiently for more, but nothing came. "That's it?"

"Yeah, Dean. That's it. There aren't any people or buildings or roads or anything. I'm completely lost here."

"Are you okay? I mean, are you hurt?"

Sam sighed impatiently. "Dean, my heart was nearly ripped out of my chest last night. I feel like I got run over by a steam roller. No, I'm not okay." He waited a beat, then said, "I assume it was last night because generally people die in 24 hours after being possessed. It _was_ last night, correct?"

"It was last night, all right," Dean answered. "Look, we'll find you, okay? Just hold tight and try to keep fighting it."

"I am, Dean," Sam said, suddenly groaning through his teeth. "Just hurry."

"Maybe we can have someone trace your phone," the elder Winchester said.

"Ash," Jo added from beside him, having gathered a lot of what was being said from Dean's half of the conversation.

"Yeah, Ash," Dean repeated to his brother. "So you have to stay on the line."

"I _am_ on the line," Sam ground out, obviously in some kind of pain. "But please hurry."

Jo was already using her own phone to call Ash and ask him for a favor. "Jo is on it," Dean said. They waited for the other conversation to be over.

"Ash can trace it to within a mile," Jo said as she closed her phone. "He'll call when he has it."

"A mile? That won't help if he's stuck in a forest!"

"Dean, it's better than what we have now, which is nothing.. At least we'll have somewhere to look."

"Okay," Dean said, nodding his resignation. "Did you get all that, Sam?"

"The important stuff, I think," Sam said on the other end of the phone, groaning with some sort of attacking anguish.

"Okay, then just hang on, buddy. We'll be there soon. In the meantime, don't leave the forest."

There was no answer. Dean waited, but he couldn't hear anything from his brother. "Sam?" he asked. "Sammy!"

No answer.

Dean pulled his phone away from his ear, looking at it as though it was the reason he could no longer hear the younger Winchester.

"Dean?" Jo asked from his side. "Is everything okay?"

"No, it's not," he growled.

"Ash should be calling back any time now," she said, trying to ignore his anger.

"I hate being useless."

Jo nodded slowly to acknowledge him but said nothing in response. She didn't know what to say, never having heard a Winchester sound this defeated before.

They sat in silence until Jo's phone rang. "Ash?" she said quickly. "Did you find him?"

"The signal is coming from Granville Forest, about seventy miles away from you," Ash answered. "I can't get it much closer, but I know he's near the south end of it . . . the end away from the road."

"Got it. Thanks, Ash. And please don't tell my mom yet."

"Whatever," Ash said as he hung up.

"Granville Forest," Jo repeated to Dean as she closed her phone.

"Just point me in the right direction," the elder brother said as he headed for the car. A slight sound drew his attention back to his phone, which was still open and connected to Sam's. He put it to his ear. "Sam?"

His answer was a low, primal growl. Even though it sounded completely animalistic, it still sounded like his brother. "Sam?" he said louder. "Fight this, Sam! And don't go anywhere! Even if you can't stop yourself from being possessed, DON'T LEAVE THAT FOREST!!"

A slight whimper came across the phone line this time, and he trusted it enough to know that Sam would do everything in his power to stay where he was.

----------------------

Sam groaned as he felt the demon inside him attack again. Every time brought new levels of agony to his already exhausted body. But he'd heard Dean tell him not to walk away, and somewhere in the back of his brain, he knew this was wise. He'd even tried to promise his brother that he'd stay, but it had come out more as a cry of pain than any sort of words. But he knew Dean would understand. Dean could read him like a book.

He allowed himself to collapse, knowing it would be a lot harder to leave if he wasn't on his feet. He even considered trying to tie himself to a tree, but knew that wouldn't help. He'd be able to get out of it in seconds. His phone fell out of his hand and he lay on his back, praying to fall unconscious. That would keep him here. His hazy mind suddenly registered what he thought was a fantastic idea. He could hit himself in the head with something to knock himself out!

Normally, he would have realised that this was one of the dumbest ideas he had ever had. But in his current state, nothing overruled his desire to keep his promise to Dean, and this was the only solution he could come up with. He crawled around, looking for a branch or a rock or something, and finally discovered a river running through the forest. Surely there would be rocks there!

But the demon attacked again just as Sam neared the river, and the agony lancing through his body made him lose his balance. He slipped down the side of the bank and into the water. Luckily, the water was so cold that it jogged his brain and he realised what was going on. He dragged himself back to the bank and tried to climb out, but the water was colder than he thought. His fingers were already numb and refused to grip anything long enough for him to get out. He knew Dean wouldn't be coming for a while, and he wouldn't last more than ten minutes in this water. He fought the demon's attack _and_ the darkness that was now rushing in around the edges of his vision. And, too late, he remembered that he had dropped his cell phone before he crawled away.

"U-uh o-oh," he muttered out loud, his teeth chattering as he started to lose the strength to keep himself awake.

"H-hurry, Dean," he said softly.

----------------------

Note: Thanks again, for reading, everyone. I made up the name of the forest, so if there's really a Granville Forest out there somewhere, I'm sorry. It's just a work of fiction with borrowed characters. Please tell me what you thought so I know how to make the story better.

Oh, and I hate to make excuses, but I was half-asleep when I wrote this chapter, so I apologise for the many mistakes I'm sure I made.


	6. Chapter 6

Note: Thanks for being patient with me, everyone! (Not that you really had much of a choice in the matter.) Enjoy!

----------------------

"Not good, not good," Dean muttered under his breath as he finally pulled the car up next to the forest where he knew his brother was. He had a pit in his stomach and experience told him that meant something bad had happened to Sam.

"What now?" Jo asked. "We made it!"

"My brother-sense is tingling," he said by way of explanation. "There's something really wrong. We have to hurry."

"I thought we _were_ hurrying."

Dean's lip curled in anger, and he spared a moment he didn't have to look at her. "Don't come," he growled. "You haven't been helping this whole time. The most you can do is remind me how long I have to save my brother's life, and I don't need that right now, okay? Just stay here and be ready to go when I get him back."

"What if you need my help?" she called desperately as he walked away.

"Honey, we haven't needed your help the first twenty years of doing this. We don't need it now." And with that, he was gone at a dead run. "Sam!" he called repeatedly, hoping his brother would hear him but knowing in his heart that he would receive no answer for his efforts.

He finally saw Sam's phone, and stopped dead when he realised he couldn't find the younger Winchester anywhere near the phone. He picked up the offending piece of technology, rolling it over in his hands. Licking his lips, he turned toward the quiet sound of running water, trying to decide what Sam would have done in this situation. He was probably trying to keep himself awake, so he would have wanted cold water. Nothing else made sense. Unfortunately, he slipped down the side of the bank as Sam had, and soon plummeted into the icy water. It jolted him so much that he almost didn't notice the limp form that was nearly buried in the water.

Instinctively, he knew it was Sam, even though he couldn't see his brother's face. Then he realised that Sam's face was half embedded deeply in the mud of the bank. It had saved him from drowning, but perhaps still not from suffocating. Swimming as quickly as he could, he reached Sam's side and dragged them both painstakingly out. Dean checked his brother over to see his condition. Sam's chest still oozed blood through the cloth that covered it and it looked like he had a fever. But worst of all, he wasn't breathing.

"Come on, Sammy," Dean said, lightly hitting his brother on the chest in an attempt to get him to breathe on his own. "Come _on._"

When the vocal plea didn't work, Dean immediately started CPR. Luckily, it only took two breaths for Sam's lungs to suck in air on their own. And then the coughing started.

As if it wasn't bad enough that Sam had inhaled quite a bit of water, it was likely that he had also unwittingly inhaled mud and grass from the bank he was lying in. Dean turned his brother on his side and tried to hold him still while his body rid itself of water and grime. After what seemed like an eternity, Sam took a faltering breath without coughing or sputtering. He wasn't conscious yet, but at least he was breathing now.

"Sammy," Dean said, gently shaking his brother's shoulders. "Sammy, wake up."

Sam merely groaned in response. But that was the best sound Dean had heard in a long time. "Come on, Sammy," he coaxed. "Open your eyes for me."

"Dean," Sam whispered, eyes still closed.

"Yeah, bro, it's me. Come on, look at me."

Sam seemed to struggle with this for a few moments, eyes fluttering but never coming all the way open. "Can't," he finally murmured.

"Yes you can," Dean persisted. "Let me have a look."

"Get it out of me," Sam suddenly hissed, arching his back in pain and writhing as the agony spread through every inch of his body.

"Whoa, whoa, Sam," Dean said, eyes widening, still trying to hold his brother down. "It's still there?"

"Can't fight it . . . much longer," was all the younger Winchester grumbled as he went limp again.

"I think you have to be conscious for me to exorcise you," Dean said, knowing no one could hear him. "But I'll see what I can do while you're out."

He pulled a slip of paper out of his pocket, where he had written the latin exorcism ritual down carefully. And he began to read. Sam's latin was better than his, but that didn't matter right now. He barely recognised the words that flowed from his tongue as he read. It wasn't terribly important that he be paying attention to himself; the most important thing was that the words were said correctly, but he didn't need full concentration to do a simple exorcism.

For the second time that day, luck was with the Winchesters and Sam apparently didn't have to be conscious to have the demon leave his body. And leave it did, though it seemed to be attempting to shred Sam's body as it went. When the black smoke had cleared, Dean leaned over his brother and tried to wake him.

"Sammy," he said gently, "I can't carry you back to the car. You have to be awake to help me."

There was no response.

Dean could see Sam's chest rise and fall feebly, the only indication that he was still alive. "Sam," he called out, louder. The youngest Winchester was shivering from the hypothermia he had gotten from the river But he didn't show any signs of waking.

"Is he okay?" Jo's voice asked from nearby. Dean hadn't even heard her come up.

"No," he snapped. "I thought I told you to wait by the car.

"You did," she answered. "But I couldn't just stand there when there was something I could be doing."

"Yeah?" Dean growled, finally looking over. "What is it exactly that you can do here?"

"I – uh . . ." She trailed off uncertainly.

"That's what I thought. Now go away."

Jo nodded and stepped back, but didn't leave. At that point, Dean didn't really care what she did, as long as she stayed out of his way. He tapped his brother's cheek, and felt a bit of relief when Sam turned his head toward the hand, which, while it was also wet and cold from the river, was warmer than his own body.

"That's right, buddy. Wake up," Dean said, putting his hands on either side of his brother's face to warm him up. Sam groaned, and Dean decided that _this_ was definitely the best sound Dean had heard in a long time, not the feeble groan from before. Then Sam called his name, and he decided every time Sam made a noise, it was the best sound he'd heard. But that was the big brother in him.

"Eyes open, Sam," Dean ordered, though his caring voice betrayed his harsh words. "You know the drill."

"Too . . . h-heavy," Sam replied, teeth chattering.

"You need to get up and moving so you don't die from exposure," the older brother said. "Come on. I'll help you."

To his credit, Sam did his best to move. It just didn't work. In the end, Jo stepped forward and assisted Dean in getting the semi-conscious hunter to his feet. She was on one side, and Dean was on the other. Together, they dragged Sam all the way back to the car. They talked to him while they went, and sometimes he mumbled incoherently back, but was once again unconscious when they reached the Impala.

"I'll drive," Jo offered. "You can sit in th back with Sam."

Dean scowled, his expression narrowing dangerously at her horrific suggestion. Who did she think she was? No one was allowed to drive his car but him, and occasionally Sam. But remembering Sam caused his big-brother instinct to take over again, and he reluctantly handed her the keys.

"If you do anything to my baby, I swear I'll kill you," he warned as he slipped into the back and dragged Sam's body in with him.

"I'll be careful, Dean," she responded carefully, knowing she was already on thin ice with the man. "Where's the nearest hospital?"

"The cabin," he said.

"What?"

"Drive to the cabin. We can't go to a hospital."

She looked incredulous. "Why not?"

"Well, for starters, Sam would be completely helpless in there. The doctors wouldn't know what to do to help a man who's been possessed, and a lot of questions would be asked. Just take us back to the cabin, where we can fix him up and watch over him."

There was a pause as she started the car, and then he added caustically, "And by 'we' I mean me."

Jo wisely chose not to say anything to that. They made the trip back in complete silence. Dean wanted his music, but getting it would have required talking to Jo, and he wasn't quite ready for that yet, so he endured the silence. It took both of their effort to get Sam onto the couch, and Dean assured Jo he would handle getting his brother into dry clothes himself. The idea of her helping gave him a bad taste in his mouth for some reason.

"Where will you go now?" she asked as she prepared to leave.

"What are you talking about?" he returned.

"Now that you've gotten the demon out of Sam," she said. "What next?"

"We exorcised the demon, yes, but that doesn't mean it's dead. It could find another host and the killings could continue. We're not going anywhere until I make sure it's finished. Besides, Sam will need some time to recuperate."

Her mouth formed an "oh" shape as she realised he was right. She nodded and was tempted to ask if he needed her help, but already knew what he'd say. She would just have to continue her own investigation. Perhaps their paths would cross again and she could do something to help.

She left the brothers and drove back to her own motel. She changed clothes and fell into her bed in complete exhaustion, never noticing the black shadow enter her room.


	7. Chapter 7

Dean didn't sleep that night. In fact, he barely closed his eyes to blink. He sat in his chair, concentrating on the shallow breathing that his brother was doing. It had been another close call – too close. And the part that bothered him the most was that Sam basically saved himself. He had gotten away, he fought back the demon, he called his brother, he did foolishly dump himself into a freezing river, but in the end, all Dean did was show up and do the exorcism. Sam hadn't needed him as much as he thought he would.

He would have been able to move past that if his cell phone hadn't started ringing right then. He found Jo on the other end.

"Hey, Dean," she said. "How's Sammy?"

"He's okay," he answered, annoyed that she had the gall to use his bother's dreaded nickname. "He's sleeping."

"Still? But we brought him home almost an hour ago!"

"Are you stupid?" Dean snapped. "He nearly died!"

"Right, sorry. It was kind of cool how he saved himself, though."

"What?" Dean asked, his voice hitching as she vocalised his terrible thoughts.

"Well, it's not like he really needed you around, you know? It took us so long to get there that he had things under control."

Normally, Dean would have sensed that something wasn't quite right here, but he was already low and feeling helpless and this was the straw that would break the camel's back. He flicked his phone closed, effectively ending his conversation with Jo so he could commiserate with himself. And that is exactly what he did.

By the time morning rolled around, Dean's bitterness and depression had practically eaten a hole through him. When Sam's eyes fluttered open and he managed to focus on his brother's zoned-out expression, he could see the hole. And he didn't like it.

"Dean," he said, surprised when his voice came out like a hoarse grunt.

Dean's glassy eyes turned to Sam's and when they met, Sam had to repress a shudder at the hollowness he found there. What had his brother been sitting there thinking about all night? But just as Dean's big-brother instincts had kicked in when Sam was in trouble earlier, Sam's little-brother instincts kicked in now.

"Thanks for coming to get me," he ground out slowly, keeping eye contact.

"Not like you needed me," Dean grumbled after a moment and looked away.

"What?!" Sam snapped. "I don't know if you recall, but I was face first in a puddle of mud. I wasn't breathing and I had a demon inside of me. That isn't exactly something you take care of on your own, Dean."

"Don't try to sugar-coat things for me, Sammy. Even Jo said it when she called last nght."

Sam's brain was finally clear of the cobwebs that had kept him groggy, and with the clearheadedness came a startling realisation. "Dean, when did she call?"

"Last night, I said. She called to see how you were doing."

"What time, Dean? Was it pretty soon after we got back?"

"I guess so," the elder brother answered, shrugging.

Sam sat up in bed, leaning himself against the wall for support. His muscles were still aching, as was the cut on his chest. And he had a massive headache. But something wasn't right, and he was determined to figure it out before it ate his brother. "Did she sound like herself?"

"She sounded wide awake," Dean offered, still so caught up in his own misery that he didn't see where his brother was heading.

"And why do you think she might have been wide awake in the middle of the night after the two of you made a long drive out to the middle of nowhere to search for me?" Sam asked patiently.

"Maybe she's good under pressure."

"She's not, Dean. We've seen her under pressure and it's not that great."

Dean took a deep breath as he seemed to ponder Sam's words for the first time. "What are you saying exactly?" he queried, though Sam could tell he was finally putting things together and had a pretty good idea of what was going on.

"Well, the demon would have needed a new host as quickly as possible so it wasn't banished. It wold have needed someone with whom it had had contact. That could be either you or her. It probably wasn't going to mess with you right away, since you were the one that had just exorcised it. That would leave Jo. And she wouldn't have been expecting it." There was a pause. "Naturally, since you had just evicted the demon, it probably couldn't resist a poke at you. That's why she called. The demon most likely wanted to get back at you and see if I was too weak to defend myself. It hadn't failed before now."

Dean nodded, his brain registering all the things that Sam said. He felt such immense relief at the idea that he wasn't totally useless. "Think she's still at her room?" he asked.

"I hope so," Sam replied. "Because if she's not, I have no idea where to find her."

"Can you move around much?"

"I'm sore, but I'm okay," the younger Winchester insisted. "I promise to not slow you down." He groaned when his muscles protested him pulling himself to a standing position, noticed Dean's raised eyebrows, and added, "Well, not too much, anyway."

Dean grinned and rose. "I'll make us something to eat in the kitchen while you get dressed." With that, he walked out, closing the door softly behind him and feeling a hundred times better than he had earlier that morning.

Sam was just reaching for a shirt when a figure unexpectedly crashed through the glass of his window. He looked up and noticed Jo, her eyes an unnatural glossy black, rolling to her feet with a grace and ease that she normally did not possess.

"Aww, were you getting up for little old me, Sammy?" she asked playfully. "You shouldn't have."

"Dean!" he shouted as she charged him. His reflexes were quick enough to sidestep her attack, but he wasn't expecting her to kick out when she hit the ground. He found his legs being swiped out from under him and then he joined her on the ground. Too quickly, she rolled over and wrapped a hand around his throat. Sam gasped once and then drove his knee into her stomach. The second she released him, he got to his feet and headed for the door. He was in no condition to fight a demon at the moment, and he was sure his brother hadn't heard him yell for help. He ripped open the door and tore down the hall as Jo got to her feet, calmly following him out without a care in the world.

"Big brother can't help you right now, Sammy," she said evilly from he room.

Sam burst into the kitchen, frantically looking for his brother. "Dean?" he called. "Dean!"

Finally, with horror, his eye caught the limp form of his older brother, sprawled on the ground on his stomach with blood seeping out of a gash on the back of his head. The only consolation he found was that he could see Dean's chest rise slightly with a breath and knew he was still alive. But now he was on his own against a demon that really seemed to have a personal vendetta against him.

"It's just you and me now, Sammy," Jo's voice said from right behind him.

"Oh, crap," Sam eloquently announced as he turned around slowly.

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NOTE: Sorry about the long wait. I've decided to write a nice, long, violent chapter next time to try to make up for it. A special thanks to Windyfontaine for most excellent support on all my stories! Your reviews make me want to keep going!


	8. Chapter 8

"I hate to kill the moment by asking a stupid question," Sam said calmly as he watched Jo, "But why exactly do you hate me so much?"

"And what makes you think I want to answer your stupid question, Sammy?"

"It's Sam," he returned with a confidence he was still trying to gather. "And demons generally seem to be big on monologues, so I figured we could have a friendly chat before you grind my bones to make your bread."

"You're special, _Sam_," Jo answered slyly.

Sam was starting to understand Dean's apparent need for sarcasm even in the face of almost certain death. It was making him feel a lot better. "Ah, the whole 'you're special' conversation. I've had this one already. I want to know the real reason."

"He has things in store for you and all those like you."

"Don't you people ever come up with anything original? I swear, I've already heard everything that's been coming out of your mouth." Sam was feeling more at ease as he tried to engage the demon in small talk. He was also trying to come up with a plan. But nothing seemed reasonable. The demon had already possessed him and therefore knew generally how he thought. He'd have to do something totally out of character in order to surprise it. He figured that doing something Dean would do was a good idea, but that required weapons, and he didn't have any with him at the moment. What would Dean do to distract a demon long enough to find a weapon?

"He gives us permission to say certain things to you, Sam," Jo went on.

"And you obey out of the goodness of your heart?" he asked, his eyes flicking around desperately for something to get himself out of the situation.

"I obey because he's my father and he loves me!" she suddenly snapped.

Sam was taken aback by her emotion, but decided to play on it. "Oh, yeah, and dear old daddy has gotten how many of your brothers and sisters killed by chasing my brother and me? Let's see, there was Meg, and –"

He was interrupted by Jo throwing herself at him angrily. Okay, so maybe making her mad wasn't a great idea. At least now he remembered why he never approved of Dean behaving this way; it always had the same results. And these results were never good for a weak, unarmed hunter. Wait a minute – a weak, unarmed _Winchester. _He was a Winchester. And judging from the fact that he was just painfully shoved into the refrigerator, he was now an _angry_ Winchester. That always counted for something. And he was about to show this stupid demon what it meant.

As soon as his back hit the refrigerator, Sam swung his right fist with everything he had. It hit Jo neatly on her cheekbone, and she flew off him. That was going to hurt her later. Oh well. He dove after her and landed on top when she hit the ground. Clearly having the advantage, he hit her again, but she had the extra demon strength, so she easily shoved him off and charged again. Sam could have avoided this hit, but knew the two of them would be getting too close to Dean's limp form for his liking, so he stood his ground as Jo plowed into him. They flew over the counter behind them, landing in a heap on the other side.

"You can't beat me in a hand-to-hand combat, Sam, especially in your condition," Jo panted as she got to her feet.

"At least you're out of breath," Sam gasped back. "That's something."

"This is nothing, you pathetic little imp," she growled as she ran at him.

This time, Sam had no problems sidestepping her attack. He twisted to one side as she came at him. Her hand scratched his back, but he wasn't hurt. Instead, he continued twisting so he could plant his foot in her back. He shoved her into the table and grabbed a chair as she flipped around.

"Careful, Sam," she said. "You wouldn't want to hurt this precious body."

"Actually, Jo and I don't have a great relationship since I tried to kill her, so I don't think it will matter that much in the end."

"You're wrong, Sammy," she continued. "She thinks of you as a brother."

"Well, my brother has tried to kill me before, too, but that doesn't mean we always have a great relationship."

"Enough talk!" Jo snapped.

Sam threw the chair at Jo as she came near him again, but she was prepared for the move and dodged it. And this time, when the two collided, Jo had pulled a out a knife Sam didn't know she'd had. When he saw the glint of the metal, he tried to move out of the way. Jo meant to stab him in the chest, but his leap sideways caused her to bury it in his leg. The agony prevented him from rising again. And stupidity told him to rip the weapon back out, which he did. Pain lanced through his whole body as blood poured from the wound, but at least he wasn't unarmed anymore. Unfortunately, now he couldn't move as well.

Seeing the situation she had him in, Jo backed away and went around the island counter top to where Dean was still lying. "Poor thing," she said, kneeling next to him. "And he didn't even put up much of a fight. Then again, neither did you."

"Get away from him," Sam ground out, using his racing adrenalin to drag himself to his feet.

"But what if I wanted to play, Sammy?" And with that, she cruelly jerked her knee into Dean's side. The crack of a rib could be heard from across the room. And Dean's resulting unconscious groan was just loud enough to reach Sam's ears.

Sam didn't know exactly what to do. He certainly didn't want to kill Jo, but if it came down to a choice between the girl and his brother, he'd do it in a heartbeat. He just had to get her away from Dean.

"Drop the knife, Sam," she ordered from the ground, her hands slipping around the elder Winchester's throat. "Drop it or I'll snap his neck right now."

The knife slipped from his fingers almost before Sam had a chance to really register the command. It was a reflex to save his brother's life. "Let him go," he choked out, his voice hoarse with fear.

"See how easy it was for me to stop you in the end? Now, you have agree to come with me."

Confusion clouded Sam's judgment. "Come with you? I thought you wanted to kill me!"

"Of course not," she scoffed. "What good would you be to him if you were dead? He has plans for you, remember?"

"Then why did you drag me out into the woods to rip my heart out?"

Jo snorted. "You think that was me? You're an idiot."

Sam's eyes widened as he realised the import of her words. "You mean there's _another_ –"

"Obviously," she interrupted.

"That's really not good," the youngest Winchester said, the words slipping from his mouth before he had a chance to think about them.

"It doesn't matter," the demon retorted. "I'm here now. Who knows where that other one went?"

Beneath her hands, Dean's eyes snapped open – black pools of possession.

"But surely it isn't gone," Sam went on, unable to see his brother on the ground.

"Naturally not," Jo said. "But who cares? Now, agree to come with me, or precious Dean dies."

Sam blanched. "Uh . . ."

And it was in that moment that the demon possessing Dean decided to make an appearance, throwing Jo back like a rag doll. She slammed into the cupboards as he rose, looking down with distaste at her form.

"I have to finish what I started," Dean said. "So you can't have him. He's mine."

"I marked him long before you did," Jo growled back as she, too, came to her feet and they faced each other.

"Uh oh," Sam said softly, looking back and forth between the two.

"I _will_ have him," Dean said. "I have never failed."

"Nor have I."

They silently faced off for a few tense seconds, then attacked each other at the same time. This was definitely a situation that Sam couldn't have predicted. And he had no idea what to do. It was likely that they would not stop until one of them was dead. He also had the fleeting thought that it was strange to have people fight over him. But that thought would have to wait.

He reached down for the knife just as Dean's body flew into the spot where his head had recently been. He stayed bent over as Jo launched herself in pursuit. It was only after they had both tumbled into the living room that he straightened again, trying to ignore the intense pain radiating from his leg. He'd take care of that later. Right now, he had to exorcise two angry demons at the same time. Could one exorcism work for two demons? He didn't know. But at least now he had an idea of what to do to stop them. And he had to do it now, while they were distracted by each other.

He followed them into the room, climbing onto the top of the couch and disregarding the sounds of fighting that blared around him. He was pretty sure he could recreate Solomon's Key up there if he could find something to draw with. Disgusting even to himself, he elected to use the blood that was seeping down his pants. Hey, it was no longer useful inside his body, so he might as well make use of it outside. He dipped a finger in it and started drawing a circle.

Just as his circle was nearing completion, Jo flew into the back of his legs, knocking him off the couch. They both dropped to the carpet, and Jo tripped over Sam as he tried to rise. "Get out of the way," she growled, shoving him away as she ran back to Dean. Sam groaned and got up again, determined to finish. He climbed back onto the couch and continued his drawing. He was almost finished when he heard a horrible sound – or lack of it, rather. The fighting had stopped.

"Dean has some pretty handy skills, doesn't he?" Dean's voice said from below and behind, breathless but alive. "Perhaps I should keep this host for a while."

Sam slowly turned to look, cringing as he saw Jo's motionless form sprawled across the floor, blood coming from many different wounds on her body. His eyes went on until they met the black pools that were currently taking the place of Dean's hazel ones. And the evil grin that crossed his brother's face chilled Sam to the bone.

"Now, about that heart, Sammy," Dean said as he walked toward the younger hunter. "I think that's mine, rightfully earned."

"Actually, it's mine," Sam said as he leapt forward to make the last stroke on the key, placing himself just outside of reach of the demon. But he wasn't sure if his aim was accurate enough. All he knew was that he jumped, felt something explode in his forehead on his way down, heard Dean's voice, surprisingly registered Jo's voice, and then he knew no more as blackness overcame him.

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Note: Okay, so it wasn't exactly what I expected to have happen. Sometimes stories just take on a life of their own, you know? Anyway, I'll see what I can do to fix it. Please keep reviewing!


	9. Chapter 9

Darkness still hung in cobwebs to Sam's mind as he came to, sprawled on his stomach across a carpet. And right after he registered the darkness, he felt the pain. There was a generalised ache throughout his whole body, localising somewhere in the vicinity of his left thigh and again in his head. He instinctively reached to his head, feeling something sticky and wet. Briefly, he wondered why someone would have spilled something sticky and wet on his forehead and where he could be so that could happen. Then he remembered that, in his business, sticky and wet substances on skin were usually blood. Okay, so he was bleeding. His other hand reached for his thigh and felt more blood.

"He's moving," came a distinctively familiar voice, cutting through his shattered thoughts.

He knew that voice from somewhere, but he couldn't place it right now . . . not with the pounding going on in his head.

"I can _see_ that, you moron," came another familiar voice – but this was one that Sam recognised almost immediately: Dean.

Something had to be wrong if Dean could see that Sam was hurt but wasn't coming to help and see if he was okay. There was only one reason, and that was that Dean couldn't come. What would stop him from coming to Sam's aid? He didn't sound injured. He must have been trapped. But what could have trapped him when his brother was in trouble? It was like he was possessed or something . . .

Sam's eyes snapped open as his brain fully latched on to reality. It had taken far too long, and he realised that, since he was lying in an uncomfortable position, sprawled on the ground without being attacked by the two demons in the room, he must have been successful in finishing the devil's trap.

He sat up too quickly and fought off vertigo before attempting to look at his handiwork on the ceiling. Even he was impressed. The last stroke was sloppy but good enough. Sam's eyes roamed downward, until they lit on the back of the couch, where Jo and Dean were both leaning over to see him.

"It's about time," Dean muttered, his black eyes watching his brother intently.

"What, you two are getting along now?" Sam asked.

"We've given up on trying to kill each other until we're not stuck in a rather small area," Jo answered. "And then we've decided to just have a good, fair race to see who gets you first."

"Oh, yeah," Sam murmured. "Demons are always fair."

"We're not stuck here forever, Sammy," Dean growled. "We'll find a way out and then you're toast."

Sam grinned in spite of the situation as he realised he could now perform the exorcism. Even though Dean assured him that they could get out, Sam knew it would take them a while before they figured out a way. And luckily, after many bad experiences, he had written the words carefully down and stuck them in his wallet, so he had them on his person when he needed them. His leg refused to hold his weight and his head throbbed unmercifully when he tried to stand, so he gave up on that endeavor and stuck with sitting down.

The second the first few latin words were out of the youngest Winchester's mouth, Jo snapped, "Oh, no you don't!"

Sam ignored her and continued the exorcism, while Dean yelled, "You'll stop if I break precious brother's body!" He grabbed his own arm, and Jo viciously slammed it down on her knee with a loud crack.

Sam flinched but kept reading, blocking the horrible noise out of his already painful head. As he neared the end of the ritual, he had to dismiss the sounds of screaming agony as the demons were being ripped from Dean and Jo. And the force of wind at having two demons leave at once threw Sam back into the table that had knocked him out when he first fell off the couch. For the first time in about a year, luck was with him, and he managed to not pass out. The black demonic clouds shot from the mouths of the hosts, collided with each other, and flew out of the house. Dean and Jo both rolled off the couch as they collapsed into a heap.

Sam closed his eyes in relief at the placidity that followed, taking a deep breath to steady himself before trying to move. Not surprisingly, his body refused to cooperate with him, and he found himself more or less stuck on the floor.

"Dean?" he called out softly, hoarse with exhaustion.

"Ugh," came the grumbled response as the elder brother was obviously picking himself up. Then, Sam saw Dean's head pop up over the back of the couch, confused but clear eyes taking in the devil's trap drawn with blood, broken furniture, and semi-conscious Jo nearby. Then he looked over at his brother, eyes widening in horror as he took in all the blood, and he practically dove over the back of the couch.

"Sam!" he yelled, dropping on his knees next to his brother. "Are you okay?"

"Wonderful," Sam snapped sarcastically. "That is, as long as you're you."

"Of course I'm me," Dean answered. "Why wouldn't I . . ." He trailed off as he realised what Sam meant. "Oh, please tell me I didn't cause some of this."

"What's the last thing you remember?" Sam asked, trying to be patient.

"I went to make us something to eat, and then I think I hit my head on something."

"Owwww," Jo grumbled as she stood, one hand to her head. Then her eyes widened, too. "Sam!" she shouted, joining the brothers. "I'm so sorry! I can't believe I did any of that! I tried to stop it, but I –"

"Stop, Jo," the younger Winchester interrupted tiredly. "Do you remember everything that happened?"

She got a revolted expression on her face. "Unfortunately, yes," she said. "At least now I know how you felt when you came to find me and shot your brother." An uncomfortable silence ensued, as Dean glared at her and Sam looked guilty. "Oops; wrong thing to say."

"No kidding," Dean grunted. "So does someone want to tell me what happened?"

"Later," Sam said. "Right now, we need to get that arm of yours fixed."

Dean glanced at his left arm, as if noticing it for the first time. It was bent at an awkward angle. And when he saw it, the pain shot through it. "Sam, did you break my –"

"I did," Jo interjected. "Please don't ask me to explain right now."

Dean nodded, unsatisfied but knowing it wasn't a good idea to push anything right now. "We've got to patch you up, Sammy," he said. "It looks like you tried to single-handedly turn this cabin into a blood donation center."

"Well, there wasn't much else to do," Sam said in an attempt to keep Dean's humour as he tried to sit up again. Dean and Jo both jumped forward to help, drawing him to his feet and taking him toward the bathroom in an unspoken consensus. His wounds needed to be cleaned out, and fast. The poor kid was already pale, weak, and in pain, and judging from the amount of blood in random places throughout the cabin, he couldn't stand to lose any more blood. As it was, he was situated on the toilet, leaning against the back to hold himself up.

"I'm gonna need to stitch that up," Dean said as he wiped a towel across Sam's forehead to clear the blood away.

"Not with that arm," Sam griped. "You might accidently stitch my eyes shut."

"I'll do it," Jo offered. Both brothers looked over at her sharply, not used to having a third person around to help them tend to their wounds. Their eyes caught, and Sam shrugged.

"Fine," Dean said. "But you better be really careful."

She got out the needle as Dean continued to wash out the cut with one arm. By the time the wound was clean, Jo was ready. She leaned forward, but Sam spoke before she could even begin.

"Shouldn't someone salt the windows and doors or something so we don't all get possessed again? Multiple possessions don't make this one of my better days."

"Right after you're settled, Sam," Jo said softly.

"You're in luck, then," the young hunter went on. "I'm about to pass out." His voice was weaker and his words were slurred together. "I'm getting sick of being unconscious." Then his eyes rolled up in the back of his head.

"Just hang on, Sam," Dean cried out as Sam let his head drop backward. It hit the toilet with a sickening thud before Dean could catch it. Unfortunately, his failed attempt at protecting his brother resulted in him slamming his almost useless arm into the side of the toilet. The pain that shot through the entire left half of his body made him involuntarily jerk, which knocked Sam off the toilet and unceremoniously onto the cold tile floor. His brother's body hit him in the shin, and he slipped on a puddle of blood. That knocked him backwards into Jo, whose head slammed into door and she dropped to the ground like a rock. Dean finally fell on top of her, and he, too, succumbed to the darkness, wondering as he did so if Sam would bleed out before any of them managed to wake up.


	10. Chapter 10

Disclaimer: I realised that I haven't dropped in a disclaimer for a while. If anyone cares, I am not in any way associated with the people that own Supernatural.

-- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- --

Sam woke to two things: one was a strange ringing sound that he couldn't seem to stop, and the other was an urgent message from his body that he had some problems that needed to be taken care of immediately if not sooner. Pain surged through his every inch of him, and he was aware of wet, sticky liquid seeping down his leg. Then he remembered exactly where he was and why. Being somewhat familiar with the sensation of bleeding heavily, he chose to ignore it for a few seconds to focus on the ringing sound. When he was fully in control of his facilities, he realised it was a cell phone – Jo's. Both Jo and Dean were still unconscious all over the bathroom floor, and that worried the young hunter. He dragged himself over to them with a soft grunt, checking first his brother and then Jo for a pulse. Both were strong and steady. Almost without thinking, he dug Jo's phone out of her pocket. "Yeah?" he snapped into the phone. There was a slight pause.

"Sam, is that you?" came a familiar voice.

"Ellen?"

"Yeah. Where's Jo?"

"Uh, she's here with Dean and me," Sam said, wondering how to cover up their current predicament.

"I need to talk to her."

"The thing is, Ellen, she's a little busy at the moment. She hasn't been feeling well the past couple of days and she's, uh, resting at the moment.."

There was another pause. "Is she okay?"

"Yeah, she's fine."

"Has she been hunting with you?"

"Well, she showed up here with information that we needed, so we kind of let her assist us a little."

"But she's not feeling well?" Ellen repeated, as though trying to figure out if Sam was lying to her.

"Yeah. I mean, no she's not."

"You don't sound so good yourself," the woman responded. "Are you okay?"

"Me? Yeah, I'm good. I'm just really tired. You know how hunting is." He hoped he sounded convincing, because he was ready to collapse again and he knew he still had to take care of his leg before he passed out from loss of blood.

"Well, have her call me when she's feeling better then." It was obvious from her tone that Ellen had decided Sam was lying but wouldn't call him on it yet.

"I will."

"Thanks, Sam."

"Bye, Ellen," he said as he disconnected the phone. He stared at the cell with distaste. What in the world made him think he wanted to answer Jo's phone in the first place? Shaking his head at himself, he set the phone down next to Jo and reached for the first aid kit that Dean had gotten out. He wasn't sure what had happened to his fellow hunters, but they seemed to be okay. There wasn't anything he could do for them – at least not until he took care of his own pressing problems. Shaking fingers pulled the needle and black suture thread out of the kit. Ah, when was the last time he'd given himself stitches? It was never a good idea; he knew that from experience. He'd be lucky if he didn't cause himself to pass out from agony. But then, it was either stitches or cauterising, and Sam knew with certainty that he couldn't cauterise it himself right now. He just hoped he could calm his trembling enough to stitch himself up without too much extra damage.

The first time he poked the needle into his skin, he jerked, but each time after that was merely an echo of the original pain. It was even tolerable, so he just took deep breaths until he finished. Sam reached up to touch the blood on his chest. It was seeping out, but not bad enough to require anything other than a changed bandage. It was an awkward position for him to work on. He had his chin on his chest, trying desperately to get a good view of his wound. Shrugging is apathy at this point, he tossed gauze on it and taped it down, not really caring if it was well done or not. Then he put a shaky hand up to his head. Even using the mirror, he would never trust himself to be able to stitch up his own head wound, especially in his current condition. Heck, he couldn't even tell if he needed stitches or not. Some gauze would have to do for now there, too. But when he touched the wound with the soft cloth, the pain made him groan quite loudly. He started cursing under his breath, not noticing the form behind him.

-- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- --

Somewhere in the back of Dean's mind, his brother sense was sounding. In fact, it was what woke him up. Before he opened his eyes, he could feel that something was wrong and he needed to act. Then he remembered what had happened right before he inadvertently allowed everyone to fall unconscious, and his eyes snapped open, taking in the blood that was now almost everywhere and the youngest Winchester, who was holding a gauze pad to his head.

"SAM!" he called, trying to push himself off the ground.

"What?" came the grumbled response. "And would you please not shout at me?"

"Sorry," Dean said as he managed to get to his knees. There was a shooting pain in his left arm, but it would have to wait. Sam was in trouble and Dean couldn't be bothered trying to deal with his own injuries. 'Are you okay?"

"Oh, yeah," Sam snapped with a mirthless laugh. "I'm great."

Rolling his eyes, Dean crawled over. "Let me see," he ordered, removing the gauze from Sam's hands.

"Ah," Sam said as his head started pounding. More as a reflex than anything else, his hands covered his wound so his older brother couldn't see it. "Don't; you'll just make it worse."

"I will not," Dean growled. "I'm trying to help you."

"I know, but your help is quite painful. Go away."

"Don't be such a baby, Sammy. Get your hands out of the way or I'll remove them myself."

Not gratifying that with a response, Sam pulled his hands down in front of his face, staring indifferently at the red that stained them. Dean gently wiped away the blood. The wound wasn't too deep. Head wounds bled a lot, and he couldn't see skull, so he wasn't overly concerned. It didn't even need stitches. If he'd had both of his hands working right, he would have slapped two butterfly bandages on it and been done. As it was, that would be difficult. But difficult was one thing that Winchesters could do.

"Your arm is disgusting, Dean," Sam said blithely, watching his brother intently. He felt a bit dizzy now, and the nausea that came with head injuries was almost overpowering.

"Thanks," Dean responded, not really registering the words that had been said to him. "Open those butterflies, will you?"

Sam complied, more out of a desire to get this over with than the need to help. Dean carefully wiped away more blood and stuck the first bandage across the wound. It was a cursory job at best, but it would do. The second bandage was even easier since the wound was already mostly closed from the first. Then he sat back and looked down. His eyes widened and the colour drained from his face. "Tell me you didn't stitch that up yourself. Did you?"

"You were busy," Sam grumbled, knowing what Dean was talking about. "I feel very light-headed. I think I'll go to sleep."

"Fat chance, Sam. You have a head injury. You know the drill."

"You're mean," the younger hunter said petulantly.

Dean laughed. "What are you, five? Come on. We need to get you to the couch so you don't end up getting an infection from this floor.  
Can you stand?"

"Probably not, but I'm going to anyway or you'll never go away."

"That's my boy," Dean said, half-dragging his brother to his feet. Sam swayed dangerously but didn't fall, and after a moment to steady himself, he was able to stumble out of the bathroom. He tripped over Jo's leg, but luckily was able to catch himself before going down. The bothers made it to the couch, and both collapsed onto it.

"So what happened to Jo?" Sam asked.

"It doesn't matter," Dean answered sheepishly.

"It might. I just told Ellen that she wasn't feeling well." Sam's head went back and he closed his eyes.

"Sam–"

"Don't, Dean. I'm still awake."

"Stay that way. Now, I have to go check on Jo. Don't you dare fall asleep on me while I'm gone."

"Keep talking to me and I won't."

"How does the leg feel?"

"Strangely numb," Sam responded as Dean got up and moved away. "How's your arm?"

"It's okay."

"Don't be like that," Sam muttered. "I can always tell when you're lying. It's broken, Dean. You have to get it set."

"You can set it."

"I can't even hold my head up. You want me messing with the bones in your arm?"

Dean shrugged, even though Sam couldn't see the motion. "I trust you."

"You're an idiot."

Dean stopped and turned to glare at his brother.

" . . . And I mean that in the nicest, most respectful way possible," Sam added with a grin as he imagined Dean was giving him a dirty look.

"I'll bet."

Sam kept smiling for a few seconds, listening to the soft sounds coming from the bathroom as Dean tried to wake Jo and bring her out. With his head back, Sam opened his eyes and found himself looking at the devil's trap that he had drawn on the ceiling with his own blood. It made him shudder to think about it now. And then he wanted to be sitting somewhere else – anywhere where he couldn't see it. With an effort that almost overpowered his slowly draining strength, he got to his feet and took one step before something very odd happened. It was almost as though an invisible wall had been erected around him. He put his hand out and was unable to push it past a certain point. Lifting his head again, he found himself at the edge of the devil's trap . . . stuck inside.

"Dean?" he called shakily.

"Just a minute, Sam," came the response from the bathroom.

"NOW, Dean," he said, desperation creeping into his voice.

"What?" the elder Winchester asked, coming around the corner with an annoyed expression on his face. "Please tell me you called me out here for something besides just to brag that you're standing on your own."

"I can't move forward, Dean," Sam said in a small voice that sounded pathetic even to his own ears.

"What do you mean, you can't . . ." He trailed off as his brother's eyes roamed upward, and his gaze went up, too. He took in the bloody devil's trap, swallowed nervously, and locked eyes with Sam.

"I thought my brother exorcised you," he said.

Sam threw out his arms. "It's me. I don't feel anything, Dean. Nothing. I swear it's just me in this body."

Dean nodded as though all of this made perfect sense, then plastered his characteristic grin on his face. "Well, you might as well relax on the couch for a while, Geek Boy. I'll bring you your laptop and you can research this. We'll figure something out. Until then, a little enforced inactivity is not a bad thing."

Sam looked sick, but managed to sit back down on the couch. Then he made one horrible mistake.

He said aloud, "This day cannot possibly get any worse."

-- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- --

Note: Is everyone having as many problems posting as I am? I don't know what the deal is. I had to kind of cheat to get this up. Anyway, thanks for the reviews! You guys make my day!


	11. Chapter 11

Sam clicked the "back" button on his internet browser . . . again. He hadn't found anything and he'd been sitting on this stupid couch for hours. Dean had helped Jo to the kitchen, where he gave her ice for her headache and she offered to set his arm. He had smiled almost condescendingly before assuring her that Sam would do it. Said little brother argued loudly that he wasn't in any condition to be doing things like that, and Dean told him to shut up. Rolling his eyes in frustration, Sam actually _had_ set the bone back into place and then told Dean to go away so he could concentrate. Obediently, the elder Winchester took Jo and left, saying something about research. They had now been gone for – Sam checked his laptop clock again – four and a half hours. Not only was he disappointed that he couldn't find anything on his current predicament, Sam was also irritated that he was still sitting here, alone. A demon could walk right through the door and Sam wouldn't be able to do a blessed thing about it. In fact, he'd probably end up getting stuck in the devil's trap with it. Sure, Dean had salted the entrances to the cabin, but for some reason that didn't feel like enough. Sam just felt helpless, defenseless.

He tried to ignore the pain shooting through his leg from the way he was sitting. He had tried an infinite number of positions and none of them were comfortable. Getting stuck on a couch when you've nearly bled to death was apparently not a good idea. He scratched his nose as a familiar pain started up behind his eyes. _Oh, great,_ he thought. _I'm going to have a vision while still recovering from previous wounds, trapped on a couch in the middle of nowhere with no defense_. He thought he'd been taking everything pretty well up until this point. Now, he was starting to get angry. Angry Winchesters were never good.

----------------------

"We need to go back," Dean growled at Jo, fidgeting in his chair. "We've left him alone for too long."

"Sam's a big boy, Dean," she said sweetly, staring at the menu in front of her. "He'll be okay."

"Okay? He's been stabbed and beaten up – by _us_, I might add, and now the poor kid can't even go to the bathroom if he has to."

"That's a disgusting thought."

"It's true. And here we are, sitting in a diner to get dinner. What if he's hungry?"

Jo put the menu down. "Fine. You're right. Let's go check on the poor kid."

"Don't call him that."

"But you just did."

"Yeah, well, I'm his big brother. I can call him whatever I want."

She sighed. "Let's just go, then, okay?"

They slid out of their seats and went to the Impala. After making one stop at a fast-food restaurant for dinner, the two of them went straight to the cabin to check on Sam. As they approached, Dean heard a voice . . . and quickly recognised it as his brother's. Confused, he stepped in, expecting to see Sam on his phone. Instead, he found the tall hunter, trying to stretch across the length of the too-short couch, eyes closed, hands behind his head.

" . . . I'm good, thanks for asking," he was mumbling. "And yourself? Good? I'm so glad that you . . ."

"Sam? Are you asleep?" Dean asked cautiously.

"Nope," came the reply without any other acknowledgment.

"Are you talking to yourself?"

Sam's eye finally opened. "I can only have a conversation with a computer for so long, Dean." He sniffed the air. "Please tell me that's food. I'm starving."

Jo held up the bag proudly. "Dinner is served, then," she said with a smile.

Halfway through dinner, Sam said, "So, did you guys find anything?"

Dean glanced down, unable to look his brother in the eye. "Uh, no. Did you?"

The younger Winchester's eyebrow raised. "Did you _look_ for anything?"

"Of course we did," Dean snapped, looking up.

Sam sighed. "Sorry, Dean. I'm just a little edgy."

Dean softened. "Yeah, well, you're the 'special' one, so none of this should surprise any of us."

"I just keep thinking that nothing else could possibly go wrong today," he grumbled.

"A lot more things could go wrong, Sammy. I mean, at least we haven't found any real people that are hunting you this time." After noticing the dark glare he received from his brother, Dean shrugged. "I'm just saying."

"Did you have to say it out loud, though? I'm probably jinxed now."

"It wasn't like you didn't already jinx yourself by thinking nothing else could go wrong!"

Sam took a deep breath, rubbing the bridge of his nose between his thumb and index finger. "I'm sorry, Dean," he said slowly. "I know you're just doing your best."

Dean sighed, running a hand through his short hair. "_Christo_," he muttered under his breath.

Sam rolled his eyes, trying to be patient. "I already told you it's just me," he said. "I can't believe you said that."

"I had to check. You know as well as I do that demons lie. Why would a demon admit to possessing you if it knew I would exorcise it right away?"

"Could you two just stop for a minute?" Jo finally cut in. Both Winchesters turned to look at her. "I mean, you've been at each other's throats since we got here and it's not helping anything."

They continued to stare at her for a few seconds, before Dean said, "Do me a favor . . . shut up."

Sam opened his mouth as Dean turned to look at him and said, "You, too. Both of you, just be quiet until we figure this out."

"Are you okay?" Sam asked softly.

"Fine, Sam; fine. I have a broken arm from who knows what, I think I gave my little brother a concussion, said brother had to stitch himself up because I was unconscious on the floor from my own stupidity, I have a headache, and I haven't got a clue what to do to fix all this. So, yeah, I'm fine."

The younger Winchester glanced at Jo, who shrugged. "Maybe we should call it a day and figure this out in the morning," he said. Jo nodded her approval.

Dean snorted. "Yeah, right. There's not a bone in my body capable of doing that."

"Why not? You're exhausted."

"In case you'd forgotten, Sammy, you're confined to a couch with some pretty serious wounds and blood loss. As your big brother, I have failed to protect you, but I can still fix it. And it's what I have to do. So shut up."

"Dean, you can't just –"

In frustration, Dean grabbed a bottle of holy water off the table and threw it at his brother. Since Sam hadn't reacted to him saying "Christo," he assumed there would be no reaction to the blessed water.

He was wrong.

It splattered all over Sam's face and arms, and the younger hunter groaned as it burned, smoke rising off from it. He sank to his back on the couch.

Dean and Jo watched in awe for a minute, an finally Dean stepped over. "Sam? You okay?"

"No," came the grumbled response as the last of the steam faded away.

"Are you sure you're not possessed?"

"Not anymore."

"Would it offend you if I tried exorcising you? I mean, we have to get you out of there."

"Did you ever think that you could just break the trap?" Jo asked timidly from her previous position. "It's worked before."

Dean narrowed his eyes in anger, not so much at her, but at himself for not thinking of it hours earlier.

"No," Sam said suddenly, eyes clenched tightly. "You have to figure out why I'm stuck here before you let me go. I could be dangerous."

"You? Dangerous? Not a chance, Sammy," Dean said, adopting his characteristic grin.

When there was no answer, he leaned over the couch to look at his brother's eyes, which were now riveted on the ceiling. "I didn't draw that," he said.

Dean looked up, then back down. "You said you did. How else did it get there?"

"No, I drew the devil's trap," Sam said. "But I didn't draw _that_." And he pointed to a few extra marks that had been made next to the symbol on the ceiling. They were made with blood, and comprised a new symbol that neither Dean nor Sam were familiar with.

"Are you sure?" Dean queried. "Absolutely sure you didn't accidently do that?"

"I'm positive," Sam said, never taking his eyes off the bloody mark. "Let's find out what it is, shall we?"

-- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- --

Note: Thanks again for everyone's support. This chapter is a little slow, but I promise there's more to come!


	12. Chapter 12

Many hours, books, and web sites later, Dean was falling asleep in John Winchester's journal, Jo was trying to find the least destructive method of breaking the devil's trap, and Sam was starting to get excited. This was what he did, after all. All at once, he caused everyone in the room to jump when he called out, "I found it!"

"Hmm?" Dean said, shaking his head to clear it as he came fully awake. "You did?"

"I assume that's why you call him 'Geek Boy,' Dean," Jo said with a smirk.

The older Winchester could only glare at her. "Well, Sammy, tell us what it is."

"It's called a manaia," Sam said. "It's a Maori symbol of a spirit guardian or messenger of the gods."

"Maori?" Jo repeated dumbly. "I don't get it."

"Maori people are indigenous to New Zealand," Sam replied patiently. "But I have no idea what in the world it means or why it's been drawn on the ceiling next to a devil's trap."

"Well, it sounds like a good thing," Dean observed. "I mean, spirit guardian? That's not very ominous."

"Yeah. Add it to the list of other things we're confused about."

"We know you have this spider-sense thing going, which sets you apart from everyone else. And you use it to help people. Maybe this symbol turned the devil's trap into some sort of 'special child with shining powers' trap," Dean offered, shrugging. "I mean, stranger things have happened."

"That's ridiculous," Sam retorted. "Why would the holy water have affected me? Maybe you should perform the exorcism and get it over with."

"I think Dean's idea is good," Jo said. "It kind of makes sense . . . in a weird, twisted, hunter sort of way."

"Yeah, thanks for that," the younger brother said sarcastically. There was a pause as everyone pondered the implications of what Dean had suggested. "If you're right," Sam said abruptly, "then when you destroy the manaia, I should be able to walk out of here, devil's trap or not."

Dean nodded. "It's worth a try. Let's do it and figure out exactly what it means later." He grabbed a pot from the kitchen, got up on the couch and glanced down. "Want me to get you out of here, little brother?" he asked, grinning.

"If you wouldn't mind," Sam shot back playfully, without looking up. "Just don't touch the devil's trap itself yet or we won't know for sure if it's the manaia."

"Yeah, yeah, yeah" came the response as Dean took a hard swing at the far end of the symbol. The ceiling cracked, and Dean jumped down. "Come on."

Sam got up, tensing himself for the worst, and was surprised to find that h could exit the trap easily. Cocking his head in curiosity, he bent down and picked up the discarded bottle of holy water, dumping a few drops on his outstretched arm.

Nothing.

"That is totally disturbing," Dean muttered from his position behind the couch. "Man, you really _are_ a freak."

"I'm glad we got _that_ out of the way," Sam grumbled back.

"I love it when a plan comes together," the elder brother continued as he turned to leave. "Now, come on. Let's have a celebration dinner."

"Must you always think about food?" Jo asked, starting to follow him. "We haven't finished this hunt yet."

"What are you talking about? He's free, isn't he?"

"Dean, she's right," Sam said slowly, not having moved from where he'd been standing before. "Someone or something drew this symbol on the ceiling, knowing it would trap me here. Whoever or whatever it was is still out there."

In spite of wanting to pretend for a few minutes that it was over, Dean's big-brother sense kicked in again and he suddenly felt a strong desire to inflict violence on anything that looked in Sam's general vicinity.

"We have to figure out who would have known about a manaia or what to do with it. We need to find out who or what wants me so bad. We've got to do some research --"

Sam was interrupted by his brother. "Stop; just stop! Sam, we've been doing research for hours and I can't take it any more. You've been stuck on that couch for like a day and I just want to have dinner. Can't we eat?"

Jo wisely chose this moment to remain silent, swiveling her head back to look at the younger Winchester for his answer.

Finally, Sam smiled. "Sure, Dean. Let's just be really careful."

"You know me, Sammy -- careful is what I do best."

Sam snorted. "You've never been careful a day in your life," he said, following Dean out the door as they began their normal facetious banter. Jo smiled as she watched their interactions, then went after them. She failed to notice the woman in the hall, whose lifeless black eyes lit up in a gruesome way at the sight of the brothers. She missed the woman's evil grin and her ethereal form stepping into the recently abandoned living room. And she missed the woman standing under the broken symbol, looking up and softly saying, "It worked. I knew it would."

Jo missed all of that. Instead, she followed Sam and Dean Winchester out to the trusty Chevy Impala, climbing in and heading off to enjoy a few short hours of pleasure. But the woman was waiting for them.

And the ghostly woman was ready.

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Note: I hope you're all still with me, folks! I know, this chapter is too short and a bit slow, but everything is set up for some exciting action soon! I wanted to say that I spent quite a bit of time in New Zealand and while the symbol I chose is real, it doesn't have any legends or anything attached to it. So I made all that up. Sorry. I had writer's block and couldn't think of any other way to get Sam and Dean out of one bit of trouble and into another. But please keep reviewing!


	13. Chapter 13

They had only been gone for a few minutes when everyone was sick of the idea of being gone. Jo had accidently bumped Dean, who quickly and quite vocally reminded them that he still had a broken arm and it hadn't been set yet. Jo had a massive headache from her fall in the bathroom, which didn't help her appetite during their short meal. And Sam was too preoccupied by both his brother's predicament and his own pain and confusion to really be bothered by eating. The whole idea was good but useless, and the three soon gave up. It was, in fact, on their way home to rest and recuperate that things started spiraling downhill.

Sam felt an all-too-familiar pain building behind his eyes and squinted in the passenger seat of the Impala.

"Oh, crap," he muttered, leaning his head back. "Not good."

Dean risked a glance over, but the movement made him wince at jostling his arm. "What?" he ground out.

Sam didn't answer, just rubbed the bridge of his nose in a failing attempt at relieving some of his agony. Dean looked over again, more carefully this time, and saw his brother's condition.

"Vision?" he asked aloud. Sam managed a nod in return, inhaling quickly at an especially bad wave of pain.

"Vision?" Jo repeated. "This is what happens?"

"Yeah," Dean answered grumpily.

"What do you do?"

"I get to sit here and watch Sammy suffer," he growled. "That's what I do."

Sam gasped as the vision hit him full force.

-

_A woman wandered through the cabin, looking in every single room. There were signs of a struggle in the front room, as well as a devil's trap drawn in blood on the ceiling above the couch. But there were no people._

_She finally made it to the bathroom, where Dean, Sam, and Jo were all unconscious. She smiled evilly as she looked down at their helpless forms, and turned to go back to the front room. When she got there, she added a symbol to the devil's trap._

_"That ought to keep him in," she said as she got down._

_-_

Just as quickly as the vision hit, it left. He was breathing heavily from the effects, holding his head in his hand, pondering what he'd just seen.

"Sam?" Dean asked from the driver's seat. "You done?"

"Yeah," he choked out, sounding hoarse.

"What happened?" the elder Winchester asked. "Tell me what you saw."

"Dean, I saw the symbol being added to the devil's trap."

There was a pause as the other people in the car digested this. "What?" Dean finally said.

"I saw something that already happened, Dean."

"That's unusual."

Sam rolled his eyes. "I'm seeing the past now and all you can say is that it's unusual?"

"Dude, what do you want me to say?"

Jo interrupted. "How did it get there?"

"What?"

"The symbol, Sam. Who put it there?"

The younger hunter sat back. "There was a woman in the cabin. I saw her go looking for us. She found all of us unconscious in the bathroom. And then she went back into the living room and put up the symbol."

"A woman? Who was she?" Dean asked.

"I don't know. I just saw her do it. I generally don't get names associated with visions."

"Sometimes you do."

"Yeah, well sometimes I see things that haven't happened yet, too! This isn't one of those times!"

Sam huffed in frustration and Dean turned his total attention on the steering wheel. Jo raised her eyebrow at their reaction to each other, but, once again, wisely decided to say nothing. She figured it was in her best interest to let them cool off and work it out with each other before trying any communication with them.

They finally made it back to the cabin and all three got out of the car. Dean snatched up his shotgun and headed for the door. Sam stopped when he saw what his brother was doing.

"Dean," he said.

"What?" Dean snapped, without turning around.

"What are you going to go kill?"

"Sammy, you said you saw a woman in there painting the symbol on. Who's to say she left?"

"Wouldn't we have noticed her?" Jo asked softly.

Sam shrugged. "I wasn't exactly looking for a person in the cabin. A lot could have escaped me."

"Me too," Dean put in. "What a stupid, amateur mistake to make. We should have checked everything."

Sam grabbed his gun, checked the clip, and stalked past his brother, which was quite a feat, considering the pain that still radiated from the wound in his thigh. "Well, let's check everything now."

Dean growled quietly at the idea of Sam going in first, where clearly there was already someone who had it out for him. Shaking his head, he followed the younger Winchester into the room, eyes roaming immediately up to see if something had been added to the devil's trap. It was as they had left it.

Sam, meanwhile, had already gone through to the kitchen and was walking down the hall. He gave the bathroom a cursory glance and continued on without stopping or even slowing down. He went into the room he used and checked it over, but nothing seemed out of place. By the time he was heading for Dean's room, Dean and Jo were on their way, as well. Sam stepped into the room and immediately knew something was wrong. There was a chill in the air and he felt like someone was watching him.

"Dean?" he whispered.

"You feel that?" Dean asked, instead of answering as he sidled to be right next to Sam.

"Yeah."

Their eyes scanned the room, but they could see nothing. "Tell me you can check for EMF right now," Jo said from her spot in the doorway.

"No need," Sam replied. "We already know it's here, and that won't help us to know exactly where it is."

"You want to try to cell phone thing?" Dean queried. "It worked before."

"I don't particularly want to take my hands off of my gun at the moment, but thanks for the offer."

Dean nodded. "Okay. Then are we just going to stand here all night, or are we going to do something?"

"I can't stand here all night," Sam groused. "I'm exhausted."

"You spent the whole day on the couch, dude! How can you be tired?"

Sam risked a glare at Dean, his attention off their current hunt for a split second.

And it was a split second too long.

Dean watched in horror as something seemed to slam into his brother, taking Sam off his feet and into the door. The gun dropped from Sam's hand, and as Dean raised the shotgun to fire at absolutely nothing, his arm protested. His gun also dropped to the floor, and he bent for it, cursing. The supernatural form in the room flew into his unprotected, half-stooped body , taking him all the way across the room. He lost consciousness when he collided sharply with the wall, crashing down on a shelf and not moving.

By this time, Sam had gained his feet and his gun and was staggering in Dean's direction. He stopped dead in his tracks as, half way across the room, the woman from his vision materialised in front of him. His gun was pointed at her head before she was fully substantiated.

"You," he hissed.

She grinned. "I finally have you, Samuel Winchester," she said with a sneer. "And nothing can stop me now."

"Who are you?" he asked, gun raised to point at her head.

"Who I am does not matter," she replied. "What is more important is that the trap I created was successful."

"Why now?" he spat out angrily. "Why not when I was trapped on the couch, alone?"

She laughed a bit before looking back at him. "Oh, my dear boy, the trap wasn't for you."

Sam cocked his head in utter confusion at her statement. "What?"

She tossed her head behind her in the general direction of where Dean lay, unmoving.

"It's for him."


	14. Chapter 14

Author's Note: Hooray – Mass confusion! I know that doesn't seem like a good thing, but I really wanted everyone to be confused for a while. Don't worry; I'm sorting everything out. Thanks for your fantastic reviews! You made my day! Here's a long one to make up for it!

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_She grinned. "I finally have you, Samuel Winchester," she said with a sneer. "And nothing can stop me now."_

_"Who are you?" he asked, gun raised to point at her head._

_"Who I am does not matter," she replied. "What is more important is that the trap I created was successful."_

_"Why now?" he spat out angrily. "Why not when I was trapped on the couch, alone?"_

_She laughed a bit before looking back at him. "Oh, my dear boy, the trap wasn't for you."_

_Sam cocked his head in utter confusion at her statement. "What?"_

_She tossed her head behind her in the general direction of where Dean lay, unmoving._

_"It's for him."_

----------------------

Sam took a step back, at a complete loss. "What?" he asked.

"The trap," the ghostly woman replied. "It wasn't for you. It was for your brother."

"But I was the one stuck inside the devil's trap. I was the one being hunted down by this demon. How could this trap have possibly been for him?"

"You are his greatest weakness, Samuel. Where you are in trouble, he is sure to save you, even at risk to himself. He would never abandon you."

"Surely there were other times you could have taken him," Sam insisted. "You're either the dumbest spirit I've ever come across – and I've met a few in my time – or I'm missing something."

"Dean's not very careful when you're in trouble, Sam," came Jo's voice from the doorway.

Sam flinched, having completely forgotten about her. He refused to turn his head away from his foe. "So?"

"If you're in trouble, and he's not very careful, it's easier to get both of you at once."

The youngest Winchester let his gaze wander to his brother's limp form on the ground. He pondered everything that was told to him, trying to work it out. Not a bit of it was making sense to him. "Meg?" he asked finally.

"Not even close, Sam. You're not as perceptive as I thought you were," the woman said, smiling scornfully.

Sam took a deep breath and tried again, but nothing came to him. "Then who are you?"

"We discussed this already. Who I am does not matter."

"It matters to me!"

"I made a deal, Samuel. You for your brother. I trapped you and discovered that you are in high demand among my peers."

"And Dean?"

"In high demand with me. I am regenerating, and needed a strong life force."

Sam noticed movement out of the corner of his eye and knew it was beneficial to him, so he kept up a distraction.

"I don't have a strong enough life force for you?"

She smiled. "You are quite strong. All three of the Winchesters were. But you are uncontrollable."

"I'm no puppet, lady," Dean snapped from behind her. As she turned in surprise, Dean dropped to the ground and Sam shot her. She dissipated immediately.

"You okay?" Sam asked.

"Yeah, great," the elder hunter replied. "I just found out I'm 'special' like you, Geek Boy. My day couldn't possibly get any worse."

"Famous last words," Sam muttered. "Now, hurry up. We're both in trouble here."

"You think?"

The two turned to leave, finding Jo still standing in the doorway. She looked very troubled, but hadn't moved the entire time they had been in the room.

"Jo," Dean grumbled. "Move."

"I can't," she said, her voice shaking.

"What?" Sam asked, looking around for a trap or some kind of sign that she was possessed. He found nothing.

"I can't move," she said, her eyes filling with tears.

"Why not?"

"She made a deal, and I can't let you break it."

They looked at her in uncertain awe for a few seconds. "What do you have to do with this?" Sam asked.

"I made a deal, too. I can have my dad back, and all I have to do is make sure you don't leave."

"You shouldn't mess around with this stuff, Jo," Dean warned. "What's dead should stay dead."

"I can't help it," she returned. "I can't let you go."

Dean almost snorted. "Let's say you have some sort of evil power stopping you from moving. What makes you think you can stop both of us?"

"I don't have to," she said as a lone tear rolled down her cheek. "I just have to slow you down."

"This is ridiculous," Sam mumbled as his brother stepped forward to shove her out of the way.

"They're surrounding you," she whispered.

Dean stopped, the hair on the back of his neck rising. "Who is?"

"All of them. They want Sam because he's special, but they want you for another reason."

"Which is what?" the younger Winchester snapped.

Jo's eyes locked with his. "Revenge."

"Revenge?" Dean repeated. "You have _got_ to be joking."

"I'm not."

"Well, who wants revenge?"

It was Jo's turn to snort in disbelief. "Who? There's a list so long you wouldn't believe me if I tried to tell you. It turns out that they discovered they have a common enemy and it's you."

"What about Sam?"

"He's one of their common enemies, as well, but someone else dealt for him. All they really wanted was the Winchesters, and since they know where Sam's going, they don't need to get revenge on him."

Sam took an involuntary step back. "What is this, some kind of supernatural showdown?"

Jo smiled as a penetrating cold suddenly filled the room. "You took them down one by one," she said as she finally moved back from the doorway. "But can you do it if they all come at you at once?" Her eyes glinted black, then yellow, then normal again as she turned to leave. "Good luck, boys."

There was a stunned silence as the Winchesters took in the situation, both moving to relative safety in the open center of the room.

"What are we up against, Sammy?" Dean asked.

"It's Sam," the younger hunter ground out. "And I'm pretty sure it's a bunch of stuff you killed."

"I got that, but what is it? I've killed a lot of stuff in my time."

"That's the point, Dean." The two stepped closer together. "But it's only spirits and demons. Things like the bugs and the wendigo and shtriga and the werewolves and shapeshifters are just creatures you can kill. But all we really do is banish spirits. Hopefully we set them free, but sometimes they aren't really happy about it and they look for ways to come back."

"So we don't need any silver bullets, then?"

"Not likely."

There was another pause, which Dean broke again.

"I need your gun, Sam," Dean said as the two took each other's backs in the small room, instincts flaring that something was definitely wrong.

"What? Why?"

"I can't fire the shotgun," he admitted unhappily. "But you can."

"Well, go get your gun and then we'll trade."

Dean almost looked back at his brother, but settled on staring at his surroundings. "Why me?"

"I can barely stand, Sherlock. Go get the gun."

Dean rolled his eyes and went for the shotgun. And that was when all hell broke loose. A heavy gust of wind burst through the room, shattering the glass in the window and tossing Sam to the floor. Dean called out, but his voice was lost on the loud gush of air. It turned out that it was a good thing the wind had thrown Sam down, because a knife had sailed toward him and sliced cleanly through where his neck was before he fell. Then other things started to be thrown around the room. The blanket on the bed floated up, and then the lamp, the table, the shelf, the books – everything in the room was now a weapon. Gulping, Sam rolled over and dodged the chair as Dean snatched up the shotgun and involuntarily flew through the room, dropping the gun just before he crashed into the wall on the other side. Sam reached for it, tossing his own weapon toward where his brother was trying to crawl to his feet. The wind hadn't stopped or even slowed down yet, so it was almost impossible for them to communicate with each other. But Sam managed to drag himself to Dean.

Sam's biggest concern was protecting his brother. As scary as it was to be involved in this situation, he knew he wouldn't be killed because of the deal the yellow-eyed demon had made. So, without thought for his own life, he used himself as a shield over Dean's body.

"What are you doing?" the elder Winchester shouted over the howling wind.

"Saving you," Sam snapped back, noticing that it was a lot harder to grouse when yelling at the top of his lungs. "They won't hurt me, remember?"

They moved together toward the door, hoping uselessly to escape the tirade by leaving the cabin. Before they got there, however, the wind stopped, and all of the objects in the air crashed to the ground, lifeless. Sam still stood in front of Dean, both of them panting from the exertion of fighting the strong wind.

"Not good," Dean muttered. "What's going on?"

"I don't know."

"Did you do something?"

"No!"

They were interrupted by a familiar blond ethereal woman, walking in the door that they were so close to. Sam's breath hitched in his chest as he saw her.

"Sam," she said, smiling.

"Jess?"

Dean had come around Sam's side at that point, and his eyes widened at the sight of his brother's dead girlfriend. He looked from one to the other, unable to say anything.

"You were wrong about one thing, Sam," she said, still smiling as she walked toward the two of them.

"Huh?" he asked, cocking his head to one side in his characteristic Sam-confusion expression. Jess's face darkened.

"No one said we couldn't hurt you."

Dean heard the comment and had less than a second to shove his brother out of the way before a black cloud full of demon slammed past them, burning across his back as the Winchesters once again landed on the floor.

"We just can't kill you," Jess's voice continued.

"No," Sam whispered, seemingly ignorant of his danger. "Not Jess."

"Come on, Sammy," Dean said quickly, unwilling to let the emotion on his brother's face deter him. "We have to get out of here, now."

"But Jess –"

"That's not her," came the response as Dean hauled his larger sibling to his feet. "It's not her."

"But I saw her face . . ."

Dean glanced around him, wondering why they seemed to have a reprieve, but wanting to take advantage of it either way. "Snap out of it," he ordered. "Stay with me here."

Somehow, Sam kept his balance and stumbled with Dean out of the room. The whole cabin had been shredded in the gust of wind. Bits of wood, cloth, and plastic were strewn everywhere. Everything was a mess. The only bright side was that when they were going for the door, Dean glanced over at the front room and saw movement inside of the devil's trap. At least Sam's hastily-drawn trap was still doing its job.

"Where are we going to go?" Sam mumbled, finally acting coherent and logical again.

"The car," Dean answered without a thought.

"They can possess a car, Dean –"

"We can bless it, salt it, protect it – do whatever we have to to hole up in there for weeks. It's the only safe place."

Sam nodded and they ran together, narrowly avoiding a massive tree branch that flew out of nowhere at them. They reached the car and dove in, locking the doors out of their irrational human fear and setting to work immediately on salting the windows, door frames, air vents . . . every entrance they could find.

"We have charms in here that should help," Dean commented while they worked. "They should slow down whatever is trying to get us."

"Don't tell me I'm going to sit in this Impala for weeks while you try to figure out how to get us out of this mess," Sam griped.

"No, Sammy, you won't. We're driving straight to Bobby's. He can help us."

"That idea is –"

"No, Sam," Dean interrupted, not really caring what the younger hunter had to say. "That's what we're doing." A ghost of a grin crossed Sam's features and Dean stopped what he was doing to look. "What?"

"I was just going to say that I thought it was a good idea," came the answer. "I wasn't going to argue with you."

"Oh," Dean said, finishing his salting. He patted his hand gently on the dashboard. "Sorry, baby," he cooed. "We'll clean all this up as soon as we can; I promise."

Sam rolled his eyes as Dean continued to caress the metal of the Impala. Finally, he reached down, shoved the keys in, and started the car.

"I, for one, feel safer already," he announced as they started to pull away. A sickening crunch followed by the jerk of the car to one side stopped him there.

"Tell me that wasn't the tire," Sam said hopefully from the passenger's seat.

Dean swallowed. "It wasn't the tire."

Looking over, Sam caught his brother's expression and could tell in a second that he wasn't telling the truth. "Don't lie to me, Dean!"

"You told me to tell you it wasn't the tire!" Dean growled back. He tapped his fingers on the steering wheel. "I have to change it."

"You can't go out there," Sam said. "They're out to get you. I'll go."

"No way in hell I'm letting you out there, Sammy boy."

"Dean, that demon may have plans for me, but it's more likely that you'll die from the revenge of a bunch of poltergeists and demons and whatever than that that thing wants to simply kill me. If we both want to survive this, then you know I'm the one that has to go."

Dean didn't like situations like this. He had sworn his whole life to protect his brother and kill supernatural things. In fact, he didn't do anything else, except maybe go after the occasional hot girl. But this was undoubtedly the most horrible thing he would ever have to do. He would try to argue with Sam, but deep down in his heart, he knew his brother was right.

"We'll go together," he said finally.

"We can't, Dean. I don't have a problem doing this, but you have to promise that you won't get out of the car."

The two stared at each other for a few seconds, each noting the fierce loyalty in the other's eyes. They would never abandon each other. Never.

"Only if you promise you'll get back in."

Sam grinned. "You know I will."

Dean did not permit himself a grin. He was too terrified. "Just hurry up, Sam," he whispered.

The younger Winchester nodded once and reached for the door handle. He knew he'd have to get out as soon as possible in order to prevent anything from getting in at Dean. That was okay. In spite of his large size, speed was something he could handle, especially if it meant protecting his brother. He risked one more glance at Dean, then threw the door open.


	15. Chapter 15

This was an impressive move, even by Winchester standards. Sam rolled out of the car and kicked back with his legs to slam the door shut. It took less than half of a second, and he was concerned it was still too long. The things they hunted could do a lot in that length of time. Unfortunately, he didn't have the chance to check on his brother before he was pummeled by the vengeful spirits and demons. A flying rock barely missed his head and he didn't quite move fast enough to avoid being shoved into the side of the car. Bouncing off, he grunted and went for the back of the car in order to get the equipment, only realising then that he needed a key to get into the trunk.

Cursing, he headed for the drivers side to get the key from his brother. Dean looked like he was still safe and sound inside the car for now. But there would be more risk when the door was opened. He ducked as a piece of metal flew by. Reaching Dean's door, he was surprised to see the keys on the ground. He stopped and looked through the window. Dean pointed down and shrugged. Sam permitted himself a quick grin, not knowing when Dean had dropped the keys there but not really caring, either. He decided to just accept his good fortune and head back. He slipped the keys in the lock and twisted, ducking as another tree branch came at him.

In retrospect, this idea had a lot of problems. First, Sam was supposed to change a tire by himself while trying to dodge flying objects thrown by vengeful spirits. Then, he had just opened a trunk full of weapons and effectively released them to said spirits. Guns and knives suddenly flew out of the open armory and danced around in the air.

"Crap," Sam muttered, snatching the tire iron out and throwing it to one side. The tire would be a little harder, but he was sure he'd manage it. In fact, it was easier than he thought, and it was almost no time at all before he had everything strewn all over the ground. He gathered things up and went toward the back passenger tire. Then, he heard a sound that made his heart drop through his stomach. He heard the sound of a door opening.

"No, Dean!" he shouted, heading forward with such an adrenalin-enforced panic that he as able to slam the door again before his brother could get out.

"Sam, come on," Dean shouted through the glass.

"No!" the younger hunter snapped back. "Do NOT get out."

It was at that moment that one of the angry spirits decided to use the shotgun from the trunk. Luckily for Sam, spirits apparently weren't great at firing weapons without a body as a host. Instead, the gun was tossed in his direction and hit him in the shin with such a bruising force that he momentarily stumbled, pain radiating from the wound in his leg. Dean tensed at the door, abhorring the idea of being so useless, but Sam righted himself and put a warning hand on the door. He ignored the glare he got in return.

Going back to the flattened tire, Sam crouched down. He didn't want to chance kneeling, when he would be more vulnerable and less able to move at will. He had the bad tire all the way off and was reaching for the spare when his instincts flared and he turned around, just in time to see a knife sailing straight for his head. He dropped flat on the ground, and the weapon embedded itself into the side of the car.

"Dean's going to kill me," he muttered from the ground as he continued his work. Then he paused as a thought crossed his mind, eyes locked on the knife. "That doesn't look like an attempt to hurt but not kill," he mused aloud. His temporary distraction proved to be a big problem for him, as another gun whipped him in the side of the face and knocked him to the ground. The wind got louder and more intense, and Sam tried to clear his throbbing head enough to finish the job. Rolling onto his back, he opened his eyes and registered a massive tree branch falling on top of him. And he knew he couldn't move out of the way in time. All he could do was put up a hand to shield his face.

The impact of the branch was considerably less painful than he thought it was going to be. Instead of the excruciating agony of a collapsed lung and inability to breathe, the youngest hunter discovered that he heard a few cracks and the pain closely resembled that of broken ribs. His eyes snapped open at a grunt. Dean was holding one end of the branch, struggling to pull it off without causing more damage.

"Back in the car, Dean," Sam said – or tried to. It came out as more of a hoarse cough than actual words, but his brother still somehow managed to understand him.

"I can't, Sammy," came the response as the older Winchester suddenly jerked the branch off.

That hurt more than the initial impact, and Sam couldn't stop himself from groaning miserably as his eyes clenched shut. But within a second, gentle hands were on his cheeks, holding his head up in a useless but comforting gesture. He opened his eyes again.

"Ugh," he groaned. Dean's concerned face came into focus, and their current situation hit him with astounding acuity. "The car," he said, his voice clear as he sat straight up.

"I'll finish it," his older brother said, dodging more flying debris.

"No," Sam insisted. "They're still trying to kill you."

While bending to hold the spare tire on, Dean snorted in characteristic manner. "Yeah, because that last one really looked like they were sparing your life."

Not having a suitable answer to that, Sam shrugged and reached to help. The rest of the process took only a minute more, and then they both headed back for their doors, having completed their task with minimal injuries. As he was sitting down and reaching to shut himself in, Sam felt a stabbing pain behind his eyes and recognised the onset of a vision.

"Oh, not now," he mumbled, his hand missing the door completely.

"Sam?" Dean asked, assessing the situation and leaning across the car to close his brother's door. "You okay?"

Sam didn't answer. Something was off about this vision. By the time the pain was wearing away to a point where the flash of images should start, all he saw were two yellow eyes, and he tried to shut them out by closing his own eyes. But it didn't work. Those eyes continued to stare at him, until he gasped from the pressure building in his head.

"It's my turn, Sammy," grated a low and evil voice.


	16. Chapter 16

Note: This story and I stopped getting along (it was done with me and I was done with it), so I decided to finish it in one fell swoop. I hope everyone isn't too put off by the end, and that you aren't confused by the different points of view. Thanks for your support and please review this last chapter! If anyone has any questions I forgot to answer or suggestions on future stories or anything at all, don't hesitate to bring them up! I thrive on your opinions!

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With as little warning as he'd had when the vision swarmed him, Sam was slammed back into reality. Dean was driving already, lines of salt neatly redone on every entrance to the car. The younger hunter was a little surprised. Apparently, he had been out longer than just the usual few seconds. He tried to get out of his uncomfortable position where his neck kinked at an impossible angle against the door.

"Ow," he murmured when he moved.

Dean looked over quickly. "Sam? You okay?"

"Not really," the other answered as his head still throbbed. "Where are we?"

"Nearly to Bobby's. You've been out for about three hours. I stopped already to replace the spare tire and nothing tried to get me. I don't think whatever wants revenge is following us. And I called Bobby."

"Three hours?" he repeated. "Ugh."

"What happened, Sam? You kind of did the vision thing but then you passed out."

"I had a personal visit from an old friend," Sam ground out.

Dean knew exactly what he was talking about. "And?"

"And he said it's his turn."

"His turn? What is that supposed to mean?"

"I don't know."

Dean nodded as though this was a perfectly acceptable situation. "That's okay. We'll figure it out before anything else happens."

The pressure in Sam's head was letting up, which, as it turned out, was both a good thing and a bad thing. The good news was that he could finally focus. The bad news was that he could also finally feel other parts of his already abused body. His ribs were on fire, and pain lanced up and down his leg. He tried to ignore it.

"At least you're mostly out of danger," he said, trying to make conversation that he was sure would distract him from his throbbing body.

"We don't even know what's going on here, Sam, and you think I'm out of danger? From what I can tell of the past four hours, the only person who was really in danger was you."

Sam sniffed lightly but didn't respond. Dean stole glances at his brother, worry all over his face. "Sam? Maybe you should get some rest. You look like death warmed over." There was a pause, and before his brother could reply, Dean continued, "No, you look far worse than death warmed over. We've had a lot of experience with the dead, and most of them look better than you."

"Your concern really touches my heart, Dean. It really does."

"Sleep," the elder Winchester commanded from the driver's seat.

Sam wasn't inclined to argue. He felt terrible. His eyes slipped shut before he realised what was happening and he soon found himself slumbering. In retrospect, both he and Dean should have known that it was a bad idea; he was extremely vulnerable to visions and dreams while he slept. And that was when the demon came for him.

----------------------

Dean was beyond concerned when he pulled into Bobby's place. Sam had started to sweat and shiver at the same time. His forehead felt hot. He trembled. He didn't respond to any of Dean's attempts to wake him. And he whimpered. That was the worst part. Something was making him whine in a completely un-Sam-like manner. It annoyed him. In fact, Dean was almost enraged when he got to the passenger door and jerked it open. Bobby was already on his way out to greet them.

"Dean?" he asked.

"He's in serious trouble," the older brother said. "Sam's unconscious and something's getting to him."

Bobby accepted this without another question and helped Dean carry Sam into the house. They laid him on the couch, which just so happened to be under another devil's trap. Bobby figured Dean would be too distracted by his brother's health to notice, but those hazel hawk-eyes still picked it up.

"What's that for?"

"You already said on the phone that you don't know what's going on. We can't be too careful."

"He's not possessed," Dean snapped. "And the last few days haven't given us any good experiences with those stupid traps."

"It can't hurt. Besides, we don't know why he passed out. Let's just get him settled and then figure this thing out."

Dean nodded after a moment's consideration and brushed his brother's hair out of his face almost paternally. "I'll save you, kid," he whispered, knowing his words were falling on deaf ears.

----------------------

Interestingly enough, Sam could hear Dean's words of comfort from the prison inside his own mind. And it was a good thing, too, because it helped him to wrap his head around the idea that this wasn't real. He was currently trapped in a hanging cage that was barely big enough for his whole body. Actually, his legs and arms were hanging out of the large metal bars so he could ease the pressure on the rest of himself. The demon stood below him, a mass of black cloud and those irritating yellow eyes. The only positive in this whole situation was that his physical pain hadn't followed him into this place.

"Just make this easier on yourself, Sammy," the demon said. "You're going to lose one way or another; it will be so much less painful if you give in now."

"Go to hell," Sam snarled dispassionately. He had already had this same conversation about thirty times now, and the response was almost involuntary now. He would never give in.

"They can't save you, you know," the demon growled.

Sam permitted a mirthless grin. "My brother can save me from anything."

"You have misplaced faith."

"Not a bit," came the confident reply. "He's always been there and he always will."

"But there isn't any way to stop me now. Your soul was sold to me."

"Jo sold my soul to you? Is that even legal?"

The demon smiled. "It is unconventional, but not impossible."

Sam thought for a second. "So I could sell her soul for my dad?"

"We can definitely make a deal."

"I don't want to make a deal with you, you imp," Sam scoffed. "I was just wondering how it worked."

"To be honest, Jo Harvelle's soul wouldn't be enough for your father. You'd have to sweeten the pot."

Sam shrugged. "Good thing I have no intention of making any deals with you."

"Wouldn't you like to see your father again?" the demon pressed.

"Of course I would. I'd also like to see Mom and Jess and everyone else I know who has died. But they're gone. I accepted that a while back."

"I can let you see them, if only you –"

"Go to hell," Sam grated out.

"You keep saying that, but apparently you don't realise what it means."

"Sure I do," came the response. "I was there for the whole monologue about hell while you tried to kill my brother a while back. Now, leave me alone so I can concentrate on getting out of here."

"I'm done talking, Samuel," the demon warned. "This is your last chance to join me without pain."

"Hah. _That_ chance was passed a long, long time ago."

"You are not usually this insolent, boy."

"Don't call me 'boy,'" Sam grumbled. "And you're right. I'm not. But I miss Dean's sarcasm and thought I'd try my hand at it."

"You aren't even trying to fight me."

"I'm just getting warmed up."

----------------------

"Jo did what?" Bobby almost yelled when Dean explained the whole story. "She sold his soul?"

Dean stopped short at that. "Can she do that?" he asked. "I mean, she could never trade Sam for her dad, right?"

"Actually, she could. But it takes a lot of skill and plenty of preparation. She had to have been planning this for a while."

The young hunter bristled. "I'm going to kill her. I'm going to kill her dad. I'm going to kill her mom. And then I'm going to kill that demon."

"Focus," Bobby commanded. "You can plan your revenge once we free Sam."

"You're right," Dean said with a nod. "What can we do?"

"I have no idea, Dean. You can't break a deal with a demon without making another one."

"Then I'll make one. How do I summon it?"

"You can't just go selling your soul to save your bother. He'd hate you for it. He'd hate me, and he'd never forgive himself."

"What else is there?" Dean shouted in anger.

Bobby thought for a minute. "Didn't you say you had seen a strange symbol that trapped Sam before?"

"Yeah. He said it was a manaia or something."

"It's a protection symbol, Dean."

"And it protected him from what – me? He was stuck in there for hours."

"I know," Bobby continued, excitement shining in his eyes. "But it means that someone already laid claim on Sam and we can break the deal. It isn't valid if he belongs to someone else."

"He doesn't belong to anyone."

"But someone already made a deal for his soul, Dean."

"And how do we find out who that is? Can they set him free?"

Bobby was grinning now. "More or less. I don't know of very many people that fit all of the qualifications of the person we're looking for. It has to be someone pure and noble and acutely aware of the situation. They had to have a lot of power and know exactly what they were doing."

"So how do we find out which one it was?" Dean asked impatiently.

----------------------

Sam may not have had his horrific headache or leg wound or broken ribs in this cage, but he was still starting to ache from the cramped quarters. He shifted uncomfortably and looked back apathetically at where the demon was setting the room on fire.

"That won't hurt me," he warned.

"I assure you, it will," the demon retorted.

Sam sniffed and shrugged, moving again in an effort to ease his muscles. It took only seconds for the searing pain to reach him. It felt like he was inhaling the fire, and that was agonising. He had known his bravado was a pathetic facade, but he couldn't help it. Hanging onto Dean's laugh-in-the-face-of-danger attitude felt like his only lifeline right now. And so he clung to it, desperately trying – and failing – to distract himself from his own burning flesh.

Throughout the agony of the fire, the demon was tearing away at him emotionally, reminding him in no uncertain terms of the horrible things he'd done in his life. He mentioned Sam's part in his mother's death. He talked about Sam leaving the family for selfish reasons, lying to Jess and thus getting her killed. Then he brought up many more recent memories – shooting Dean with rock salt, abandoning him with a killer scarecrow, shooting his dad, getting all three of them thrown into the hospital from a stupid car accident, letting his dad die, getting drunk and forcing more emotional trauma onto his brother through a stupid promise, shooting his brother in the shoulder and then trying to torture him to death only hours later . . . and the list went on. Sam shuddered as the guilt alone threatened to draw him under. In spite of his efforts to not listen and to convince himself that the things he _did_ hear were vicious lies, he soon began believing it. And he knew he was in serious trouble. Blood dripped from his nose and eyes. His outer layer of skin was completely singed off.

Just at the moment that he was going to beg for release, even if it meant giving in, the fire went out. The demon, probably more surprised than his victim, stopped his recitation of Sam's "sins" and whirled around. Sam tried to look as well, but couldn't find the strength. Was it possible to pass out when you were already unconscious? If it was, he was about to do it. But an angelic voice brought him back with striking clarity.

"You will let him go," the voice commanded.

----------------------

"I'm pretty sure I know who was behind it," Bobby assured Dean. "And it's a good thing. What I don't know is who the host was."

"The host?"

"The person who painted the symbol up there and physically completed the deal. Because I'm almost positive that the one who instigated it isn't human anymore."

"What?" Dean asked, utterly confused. "You're not making any sense."

"Sorry, my boy," Bobby said good-naturedly.

Dean stepped back. "Are you possessed?"

"Of course not."

"Then please tell me what's going on and don't mince words because I'm not in the mood."

Bobby nodded. "Well," he began, "the most important ingredient in this sort of deal is true love . . ."

Dean groaned. "Why me?" he muttered.

The story was interrupted in its beginning by groaning from the couch. Sam was thrashing, his skin turning an unhealthy pink.

"What is that?"

"He's being burned because he's fighting," Bobby responded. "But don't worry; she'll get there in time. I know she will."

"Who?" Dean queried.

----------------------

"Mom?" Sam croaked, maneuvering himself onto his side. His ankle caught between the bars and twisted with a sickening crunch, but he didn't even register the pain of it. His eyes peered through the bars at the glorious image of his beautiful mother, dressed in white, standing defiantly before the horrible demon that had sapped out her life so long ago.

"Why would I let him go?" the demon growled. "You mean nothing to me."

"A bargain has already been made," Mary answered simply. "And you were not a part of it."

"Mom?" Sam asked again, sounding and feeling like a little boy.

His mother smiled. "I created a binding contract that even you cannot break."

"How?" snarled the demon.

"Before you made your deal, I made my own. Samuel was marked with protection."

"When, Mom?" Sam asked from his cage. "What happened?"

"I'm sorry you were trapped on that couch for so long, son," Mary answered tenderly. "It was the only way. And if you and your brother hadn't found the way out, none of this would have happened."

Tears stung Sam's already sore eyes as he realised what she was talking about. "But that woman was possessed," he said as he thought back on his vision of the ghostly woman wandering through the cabin and putting up the manaia.

"Yes, Samuel, she was. I didn't have any other choice. I had to let that happen in order to save you. I promise that she has been freed since then. And now you must be freed, as well." She turned back to the demon. "Let him go."

"But – my deal!" it sputtered.

"Your deal does not matter to me. You can see that Samuel has been marked with protection. You cannot have him."

Suddenly, the cage door opened, and Sam slid eagerly out without pondering his landing. He thumped into the ground hard, but was so excited to be free, with his mother, that he didn't even care. He rolled to his feet just in time to see a battle of wills being raged in front of him.

"Go back to Dean," Mary commanded.

"I can't leave you, Mom," he insisted.

"You're injured, Sam. If you don't go back soon, you won't be able to."

Her words reminded him of his seared skin and he nearly collapsed again. Only sheer determination kept him on his feet. He couldn't leave her.

"This is my part of the deal, Sam," she said without looking back.

Sam's jaw dropped. "I'm not letting you sell your soul for me."

"It doesn't matter what you want, son. As I already explained, this deal is done." She smiled back at him, eyes lining the bottom of her eyes. "I'm going to join your father, Sam. Him for Dean, and me for you." She took a step toward the now smirking demon.

"No, Mom," Sam said, jumping forward. "Don't do it. Let him take me." He was stopped by an invisible wall that held him still.

Mary was now sobbing. "I want to be with my husband. If he cannot come to me, then I will go to him."

Sam had plenty of tears of his own. "Mom, you can't. You can't do this."

"Take care of your brother, Sam."

"You know I will. I always do," he whispered, unwittingly echoing Dean's words when he and their father had had a similar conversation.

"But watch out for him."

"I will," Sam responded, his tears streaming unbidden down his face. He tried to take a step forward but was still stuck.

"I love you, Sam," she said, closing her eyes. "Now you have to go back to Dean."

He tried to resist; he really did. But Sam couldn't hold back the fog in his own mind as it surrounded him, forcing him to his knees. He couldn't see anything. His skin was painful. He really couldn't breathe. And then, to top it all off, he discovered from experience that it _was_ possible to pass out when you're already unconscious.

"Mom," he groaned as he went under.

----------------------

One hour later, Bobby had finished his explanation and the two of them had generously rubbed burn-soothing gel on Sam's burnt skin. Dean now sat on a chair next to his brother, tears in his own eyes. "Can Mom really do that?" he whispered, not expecting an answer.

"Only once," Bobby said. "And I can't think of anyone else who could possibly pull this off."

Dean swallowed through the lump in his throat and nodded. "What will happen to her?"

"I'm not sure."

There was a long silence. Bobby actually thought Dean might have silently sobbed himself to sleep until the hunter suddenly raised his head. "Are you sure it will work? I mean, Sam will be free?"

Bobby nodded. "He should be."

Dean nodded again, his eyes locked on the singed lids of his brother's. "Dad for me, and Mom for him," he said so softly that Bobby missed it. Then he almost smiled as he said, "Come on, Sammy. Come back so we can fight together."

Seemingly in response to that, Sam groaned on the couch. Dean jumped. "Sam? Open your eyes for me."

The lids fluttered but refused to open. "Come on, Sammy," Dean urged.

"Sam," came the disturbingly hoarse voice. Sam sounded like someone had taken a meat grinder to his throat – and he probably felt that way, too.

"That's it, Sammy," Dean said, knowing it would annoy his little brother into looking at him. "Wake up."

After what felt like an eternity, the youngest Winchester's hazel eyes slipped open a crack, focusing immediately on Dean.

"It was Mom," he said, tears forming.

"I know," Dean returned, his own eyes filling as well.

Sam took a deep breath, blinked, and tried to sit up.

"Whoa – what do you think you're doing there, little brother?"

"What does it look like?" Sam retorted, though none of their words held any malice. They felt too emotionally dry to bicker as usual.

"You shouldn't get up yet. We're going to go to a hospital and get you looked at."

"You have to go, too," Sam said petulantly.

"I am," Dean answered with a gentle smile. "My arm needs to be set. And I'm still wondering how it got broken in the first place."

Sam's mind suddenly flashed him a picture of Jo snapping the bone while they had both been possessed and he scrunched up his nose. "Uh, I think you'd be happier without knowing."

"Fine," Dean groused. "But at least tell me if it's really over."

"It's really over," Sam said with confidence. "It's over with the yellow-eyed demon."

"And the rest of the angry spirits?"

"Gone, for now. But I don't think they'll be coming back any time soon."

Dean nodded and let his characteristic sarcasm fall back into place. "Well, I just gave you the chick-flick moment of the decade. How about we hug and do each other's hair?"

"Shut up," Sam said, grinning.

Dean smiled back; it seemed that everything was back to normal – well, as normal as things can be for supernatural hunters. And it would stay that way . . .

. . . Right up until the time that their next hunt found them.

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NOTE: Once again, thanks for reading. I have to say that this ended a little different than I expected it to. Fluff and angst and emotion are not my strong suit, so it may not go over well. But I hope you enjoyed it!


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